


breakable heaven

by haley625



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Ambassador Zuko, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But like slightly different, Canon-Typical Violence, Chief in Training Sokka, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Iroh is the Fire Lord, It's a fake dating fic, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Sokka (Avatar), Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko is an ambassador to the SWT, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 71,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haley625/pseuds/haley625
Summary: With his twenty-first birthday looming just around the corner, the Southern Water Tribe Elders have decided that Sokka, next in line to be Chief, needs to get married. Sokka doesnotwant that, but he does need to get them off his back until he can figure his way out of it. What better way to do that than to pretend to date his best friend (and newly minted Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe) Zuko?Seriously, this is a foolproof plan. Maybe one of Sokka's best. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 2221
Kudos: 3305
Collections: Zukka that makes my little heart sing, fire lilies (zukka)





	1. it's cool

There is nothing Sokka hates more than being thrown into chaos without a plan.

If he’d _had_ a moment to plan, he wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

The situation in question being his dad, Bato, Katara, Aang, Toph, Suki, Ty Lee and Zuko – _Zuko_ – staring at him like he’s just lost his entire mind.

If he had been given any warning about the information that Hakoda had just sprung on him, completely unprovoked, in the middle of what was _supposed_ to be a welcome bonfire for Suki, Ty Lee and Toph, slash birthday feast planning for Sokka, then he would’ve had something not completely insane ready to respond.

If Sokka had _known_ that Hakoda was apparently conspiring with Southern Water Tribe elders behind his back, he would’ve carefully crafted out his indignant, betrayed response – he _would_ _have_ had a list of all the reasons _why_ he would be giving him the silent treatment for the next week, at least.

But Sokka had _not_ been given any warning, had not been lent the courtesy of a strategic planning session – no – Hakoda had _thrown_ this at him and expected him to catch it when he hadn’t even known they were playing ball.

So, when Hakoda had met Sokka’s eyes from across the warm, crackling fire (courtesy of Zuko) and said –

“The elders have decided that, as next in line for Chief, it’s time that you get married.”

– Sokka had panicked.

And with a swooping in the pit of his stomach, not dissimilar to what he imagined the sensation of free falling off a cliff would feel like, he had glanced around the fire and searched for something, _anything_ that could save him, and he had come up seriously short, because he couldn’t claim that he was still with Suki, not while she was sitting there holding Ty Lee’s hand, and Toph wasn’t an option because, well, she’s _gay_ , and Aang – ew, not an option, and _no_ , and _why_ were _all_ of his friends in relationships?

And then his eyes had landed on Zuko.

Zuko, who had been staring back at him from across the fire, eyebrow raised, cheeks pink from the cold, looking just as dumbfounded as Sokka had felt.

Zuko, who had tilted his head slightly at Sokka’s frantic look, his lips turning up into a nervous half smile so familiar and comforting and _Zuko_ , that Sokka’s stomach had felt very suddenly warm and fuzzy and –

Look, he _panicked_ , okay?

Before he could stop himself, before he could even process the words coming out of his mouth, he had replied –

“I can’t get married. I’m – uh – I’m dating Zuko.”

The stunned hush that met his words sent a shiver down Sokka’s spine.

Spirits. What did he just _do_?

Sokka isn’t entirely sure where to look – not at Zuko, _that’s_ for sure, but Suki’s mouth is hanging open, and Ty Lee’s eyebrows are hidden in her hairline, and Aang looks somewhere on the edge of shocked and ecstatic, and Hakoda and Bato just look _dazed_ , like Sokka had dropped a very large rock onto each of their heads, and the only audible sound is the wind rushing around them, making the fire waver menacingly, and –

It’s Katara, who finally breaks the silence.

“I _knew_ it.”

Sokka gapes at her. “What do you _mean_ you knew it?”

“I _mean_ ,” Katara repeats, looking briefly at Zuko, before focusing her gaze back on Sokka, “That I knew it. The past few months, you’ve both been acting so weird around each other! I _knew_ something was up –”

“Nothing was up!” Sokka interrupts her, ignoring the flush that rises abruptly in his cheeks, ignoring the startled look on Zuko’s face. “I mean,” he adds, when Katara raises her eyebrows in surprise, “Yeah. This was – that’s what was – you caught us?” He shrugs in a way that he hopes seems innocent.

“Unbelievable ,” Toph mutters, “I can’t believe I didn’t put this together, both times I visited I _thought_ that your heartbeats were off, but I didn’t – I feel like an idiot.”

Sokka pretends that he doesn't hear her, carefully avoids looking at the faces of anyone else in the group as they shake themselves out of their collective stupor, and tries desperately to make eye contact with Zuko.

Zuko is - his face is red, and although it's clear, from the way his hands are clenched tightly in his lap, his shoulders stiff, that he didn’t want to, he meets Sokka’s gaze. 

Sokka tries, (summoning their six years of friendship and their uncanny ability to speak without speaking that annoys the rest of the group to no end, but would be _really_ helpful right now), to communicate with pleading eyes, a wiggle of his eyebrows, and a tight-lipped smile. _Please. Play along. I’ll explain later._

And Sokka can tell, from Zuko’s quick, almost imperceptible exhale, from the way that his shoulders drop, his face settling into something determined and tired and a little bit annoyed, that Zuko is saying back – _Fine. You better have a damn good explanation, though._

Bato clearing his throat loudly is what manages to drag Sokka’s attention away from Zuko’s eyes. Sokka meets his gaze – guarded, somewhat concerned – for a moment before his eyes flicker to Bato’s left. To Hakoda. The suddenness of their eye contact seems to startle Hakoda into speech.

“So, this is – Sokka, since when are you – how long has this been – ” Hakoda stops. “Sokka, are you gay?”

“No!” Sokka exclaims, then slams his mouth shut, because spirits, that sounded defensive, and now everyone is looking at him, confused, and Zuko is frowning, so he shakes his head and attempts to clarify. “I’m not. Not _just_ – I don’t. I dated Suki!”

“Mai dated Zuko,” Toph points out, “And _they’re_ both gay.”

“Okay, but that’s not –” Sokka splutters, turning desperately towards Suki, sitting to his left – “That’s not what happened.”

Suki shrugs. “How am I supposed to know? I found out that you like guys, like, two minutes ago.”

“I didn’t –”

Sokka stops again. He’s about to argue that he _doesn't_ like guys, but that would be slightly counterproductive in his attempt to convince the gathered group that he’s dating Zuko who is very much, a guy. And Sokka isn’t entirely sure that that’s true. He hasn’t really _thought_ about it, in depth.

After he and Suki broke up, (completely amicably, thanks for asking), Sokka had thrown himself into the Southern Reconstruction Project. For a long time, nearly every moment of Sokka’s day was taken up by the efforts to rebuild his home, by trade negotiations with Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation representatives, by the ever-present knowledge that one day, _he_ would be Chief.

That hadn’t _bothered_ Sokka, not in the slightest. Six years of dedicated rebuilding in comparison to one hundred years of destruction felt minuscule, and sometimes insignificant. A lot has changed, but there’s still so, so much more to do, and the burden is one that sits heavily on Sokka's shoulders. Again, not that he minds.

That being said - Sokka is _busy_. And there just – there hasn't been time to _date_ anyone, let alone time for Sokka to think about whether or not he likes girls _and_ guys, especially when he spends so much of his time surrounded by the Southern Water Tribe elders and local chieftains who are, you know, old, and definitely not his type. Not that he _has_ a type.

And then Zuko had arrived, just over a year ago, as the new Fire Nation Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe.

Before Zuko’s arrival, Sokka barely spent time with anyone his own age (Aang and Katara _did not_ count). Zuko’s presence in the Southern Water Tribe had changed a lot of things for Sokka – because _Zuko_ of all people telling _Sokka_ that _he_ ought to loosen up and have more fun had been a wakeup call that he had sorely needed.

Maybe, Sokka had been more than a little excited to be assigned the task of helping Zuko acclimate to Southern Water Tribe culture.

(Sokka hadn’t seen him in person in two years at that point, okay?)

Maybe, Sokka had made that acclimation process far more extensive and far more laden with not-so-official activities, like penguin sledding and ice fishing and canoeing out to see the stars, than would have been _strictly_ necessary for any other new ambassador.

(Zuko is _not_ like the stuffy old Earth Kingdom ambassador, he’s twenty-two and Sokka’s friend and – shut up.)

And maybe, during all the time they had spent together, in between meetings and official duties, Sokka has noticed the ways in which Zuko had grown up since they’d last seen each other. Maybe, Sokka sometimes lets his eyes roam over the length of Zuko’s dark, silky hair, that hung past his shoulders now. _Maybe_ , just maybe, Sokka has spent a little too much time examining how Zuko’s cheekbones stand out more prominently than they used to, how the taut muscles in his arms strain against his shirt when they spar, how –

( _Whatever_. That wasn’t - he likes girls _too_.)

Which is what he says, to a sigh of understanding from the group.

“I like girls,” Sokka repeats, and it feels right, as he’s saying it, “And guys. I’m – uh –”

“Bisexual,” Suki supplies, and Sokka nods in agreement.

“Yes. That.”

Another silence falls over the circle and Sokka feels itchy, with all of their eyes on him. He tugs at his collar, wondering if he should say something, because he should probably say something, right? But what would he even –

“So, how _long_ have you been dating?”

Aang is grinning, looking back and forth between Sokka and Zuko excitedly.

“Um,” Sokka starts, making eye contact with Zuko, whose eyes merely widen in response, “I, um.”

This should be the _easiest_ question, of all the ones that they were certain to get pestered with, and Sokka can’t seem to get a word out.

Sokka gives Zuko a significant look – which Zuko answers with an alarmed eyebrow raise – and Sokka's words rush out quicker than he can comprehend them, “I honestly don’t know. It’s easy to lose track of time, you know? When you’re in love. How long has it been, babe, do you remember?”

In _love_?

Zuko is going to kill him.

Sokka is fairly certain of that, if the way that Zuko’s fists clench suddenly is evidence enough. This entire convoluted thing (because calling it a _plan_ feels far too generous) is going to fall apart right now, because Sokka’s mouth is a full thirty seconds ahead of his brain, and why had he said _that_ –

“About six months, I think,” Zuko says, with a small smile on his lips.

Fuck. Is Zuko _good_ at acting?

“It took us some time to figure it out,” Zuko continues, “After I got here, I mean. But once it happened…” Zuko trails off, still smiling.

Had that worked?

The disgruntled noise that Katara makes seems to say yes. “Spare us the details.”

“No, I want to know the details,” Ty Lee protests.

“Same,” Toph agrees, Aang and Suki nodding vigorously.

“ _No_ ,” Sokka says abruptly. “It’s – mind your own business.”

“I think that’s a perfectly reasonable request,” Hakoda interjects, cutting Toph off as she opens her mouth to argue. “We’ve already forced Sokka and Zuko into revealing their relationship to us before they were ready, we’re not going to force them to detail the entire timeline.”

The rest of the group groans in defeat as Sokka grins, ignoring the squirming feeling in his stomach that starts in response to the twinge of guilt in Hakoda’s voice. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Of course,” Hakoda says.

“So is that - is this enough to get the elders off my back?” Sokka asks curiously, because that’s the most pressing issue in his mind (besides the fact that Zuko is almost certainly going to murder him within the next two hours, so maybe the whole forced marriage thing is a moot point either way).

“It should be. They were just concerned that you’ve been single for so long.”

Toph and Katara snicker as Sokka whines, “It hasn’t been _that_ long!”

“Sokka,” Suki reminds him, “We broke up four years ago.”

“So?” Sokka argues. “For all they know, I could still be pining after you - trying to win you back!”

Ty Lee gasps in mock horror as Katara doubles over laughing, leaning towards Zuko and shoving him playfully in the side, muttering, “Yikes. Your boyfriend’s still pining after his ex?” Then, settling her face into a very somber expression and lowering her voice into a terrible impression of Zuko’s, she adds, “That’s rough, buddy.”

Sokka flushes, though no one seems to notice or care. He dares to meet Zuko’s gaze again and finds that he doesn’t seem angry. Exasperated and a little embarrassed, but not angry. Which is good, because Sokka needs him to be in a semi-pleasant mood later, when he lays out the entirety of the plan that’s rapidly forming in the back of his head.

“Sokka, why don’t you come sit over here?”

Toph has scooted over and is now patting the newly free space between her and Zuko with an overly eager grin on her face.

“Sure,” Sokka agrees, standing and hoping that the rest of the group doesn’t pick up on the fact that his legs feel a bit like jelly. By the time he circles the fire, dropping into the place next to Zuko, he feels like his legs might give out. When the group continues to stare at him expectantly, Sokka snaps, “You can go back to your previous conversations, thanks.”

There’s a pause, then –

“ _Fine_ , whatever, I’m going to ask you more about this later, though,” Katara grumbles, turning to talk to Aang. The rest of the group falls back into their side conversations too, and Sokka risks a glance at Zuko.

Zuko is already watching him, and this close, Sokka can see that his forehead is slightly furrowed. He’s smiling, still playing along, but the confusion in his eyes is clear. His flush has settled somewhere between wind-bitten pink and embarrassed red, and a long strand of his dark hair has slipped free of his hood, fluttering in the breeze, a stark contrast against his pale skin, rosy cheeks, and the white fur trim of his coat. Sokka has to shove down a sudden urge to reach forward and tuck the wayward hair back into place. The crease in Zuko’s forehead disappears for a moment, replaced by a curious look, like Sokka’s reaction to that _urge_ had played out on his face, which, for all Sokka knows, it had.

“Spirits, is this how you two act in private?”

Sokka tears his eyes away from Zuko to meet Suki’s wide grin.

“ _What_?”

“All gooey and gross and staring into each other’s eyes,” Suki elaborates, waving her hands at their general existence and grinning wider as Ty Lee and Toph laugh.

“ _No_ ,” Sokka answers, perhaps over sensitively, because Suki snorts. Before he can finish his thought though, Zuko grabs his hand, startling him into silence.

“We’ll never be as bad as you two,” Zuko laughs, seemingly unaware of Sokka’s sudden change in mood, “Remember when I caught you making out _on duty_?”

“That was one time!” Ty Lee snaps as Suki’s eyes widen.

“That was the one time you were _caught_ ,” Zuko corrects her, “For all I know, you were _constantly_ putting me and Uncle at risk, for years.”

There’s a beat, and then –

“Okay, but remember when we all went to visit Toph and we found Katara and Aang behind the school? And they were –”

“ _Suki!_ ”

Katara looks aghast, her eyes flying nervously between Hakoda’s raised eyebrows, Aang’s bright red cheeks, and Suki’s now downright maniacal grin.

“What?” she asks innocently, “ _If_ we’re making comparisons, you two are definitely the worst.”

The conversation – or, heated argument – ramps up after that, Sokka is pretty sure, but he isn’t really listening. Zuko hasn’t let go of his hand. Zuko is _always_ warm, Sokka knows that, had noticed it _other_ times he’d made contact with Zuko’s skin. Sokka hadn’t expected to be able to feel that ever present heat through the thick wool of Zuko’s mittens _and_ his glove though, but it’s there, radiating past the layers of fabric and warming Sokka’s whole body – to the extent that he feels his cheeks heat up.

“Cut it out,” he hisses under his breath, and Zuko glances over at him, eyebrow quirked, as he takes in Sokka’s glare.

“What?”

“Your inner heat – it’s too hot.”

“Oh. Oops.”

Sokka expects Zuko to drop his hand, but he doesn’t – instead, he narrows his eyes for a moment, concentrating, and Sokka feels the moment his temperature drops.

“Thanks,” Sokka mutters, glancing down at their joined hands.

“Of course,” Zuko whispers back, “Anything for my boyfriend.” He’s still smiling, but the edge in his voice is undeniable.

“I –” Sokka stutters, looking back up to meet Zuko’s scrutinizing gaze – “My room. When we go back inside. I’ll explain. Okay?”

Zuko frowns faintly, for just a moment, before plastering back on his fake smile. “Okay.”

* * *

The moment that Zuko’s mood shifts is a physical one.

They’ve only _just_ turned the corner towards Sokka’s room, having waved goodbye to the rest of the group as they headed off to bed, when Zuko drops Sokka’s hand, his shoulders stiffening and his posture suddenly very, _very_ rigid.

Sokka’s stomach drops. “Zuko –” he starts to say, but Zuko waves his hand impatiently, pushing Sokka towards his own bedroom door.

“Just. _Go_.”

Sokka obliges, pushing the door open and letting Zuko walk in first, closing it behind him and locking it, for good measure.

When he turns around, Zuko is pacing. He must’ve taken his mittens off when Sokka wasn’t paying attention, because his hands are free and clenched into fists. Zuko’s also taken down the hood of his heavy coat – or, _Sokka’s_ coat, because the coat that the Fire Nation tailor had made him was nowhere near thick enough, even _with_ Zuko’s capacity for internal temperature regulation, so he’d been forced to borrow one of Sokka’s, and had apparently still not gotten around to getting a replacement. His dark hair is swishing over his shoulders whenever he turns on his heel, his pacing picking up a dangerous speed. Sokka’s not sure how long he’s been staring – it feels like a while – but Zuko seems to notice Sokka’s eyes on him then, stopping in place abruptly and looking up.

“Sokka, what were you _thinking_?”

“Full transparency – I wasn’t,” Sokka admits. “That was a very spur of the moment decision.”

Zuko snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “ _That_ much was clear.”

Sokka frowns at him, leaning back against his door, centering himself on the solidness of the wood behind him. “Is the idea of dating me _that_ awful of a concept?”

“That’s not -” Zuko stammers out - “Whether or not – that’s not the point. I’m _not_ dating you. We’re not dating.”

“You’re right about that, buddy,” Sokka agrees, not commenting internally or verbally on the way Zuko’s eyes narrow in response to that, “Although, you did do a pretty good job of faking it. I would’ve believed it. Which is good, considering –”

“Considering what?” Zuko looks – not _mad_ , necessarily, but teetering on the edge of…something.

“Considering we’re going to have to keep this up for like, at least the next two weeks, at _least_ through my birthday,” Sokka answers. “It’s going to have to be at least that long, if we want them to back off.”

“ _Have_ to?” Zuko picks out, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Okay, well,” Sokka amends hurriedly, “I guess it’s true that _you_ don’t _have_ to, but _I_ need to get the elders off my back, and although this was a spontaneous plan, I think, based on what my dad said, that it’s a _good_ plan, and maybe my only plan, and as my friend I’m _sure_ you don’t want to see me married off to some random person against my will, and everyone already believes that we’re dating, so we’re kind of stuck, unless you want to go tell them that we broke up after being public for like, three hours, and _that’s_ just going to make everyone want to marry me off to a stranger even _more_ , if I’m _that_ bad at commitment, so, for the time being – please. Help me?”

Sokka’s mouth feels dry and he’s breathing heavily, like he’s just run up several flights of stairs. Zuko is watching him, his lip stuck out slightly, thoughtful. “You think this is the best plan?”

“I do,” Sokka confirms, “If and when I come up with something better, you’ll be the first to know. I promise.”

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose for a second, inhales sharply then says, on the exhale, “Okay. Fine.”

Sokka grins and, before he can think too hard about it, surges forward and throws his arms around Zuko’s neck, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he babbles enthusiastically into Zuko’s ear, “You’re the best friend on the planet, there should be a statue erected in your honor. In fact, maybe _I'll_ do that, it would be very romantic and boyfriend-ly of me, I think –”

“Sokka.”

Sokka closes his eyes involuntarily at the feeling of Zuko’s warm breath against his neck, but it only lasts a second.

Zuko moves his hands, from where they’re resting lightly on the small of Sokka’s back, to his arms, pushing him backwards a few inches.

“What?” Sokka asks, after a pause.

“I don’t need a statue,” Zuko says, “ _If_ we were dating, I would _not_ want that.”

“Right,” Sokka says, shaking his head, “Of course. Duh. I should know that.”

“Well, you’re not actually my boyfriend, so it’s okay that you don’t,” Zuko says, smiling in a way that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

His hands hadn’t moved from Sokka’s arms, and he seems to notice that, pulling them back quickly and shoving them into his pockets. 

Zuko’s eyes linger for a moment on the place where his hands had just been, before looking up, his face now set in a serious expression.

“I think that we should lay down some ground rules.”

“Ground rules,” Sokka echoes, and Zuko nods.

“Just like – for when we’re in front of other people. Things that we’re okay with doing, things that we’re _not_ okay with doing, things that we _should_ do, to make this seem like a real relationship –” He pauses, nodding to himself again. “Yeah. Ground rules.”

“Okay,” Sokka says, thinking for a moment, “Well, what you did tonight, that was good.”

“What, holding your hand?” Zuko looks bewildered. “Is that not a given?”

“ _I don’t know_!" Sokka squawks. "It's not like I've ever fake dated someone before. I’m just making sure!”

“Holding hands is fine,” Zuko confirms, rolling his eyes, his tone entertained, “And easy.”

Sokka nods, trying _not_ to think about the way he’d felt, warm and tingly, when Zuko had grabbed his hand by the fire. “Right. Easy.”

Sokka steps back, grabbing the arm of Zuko’s coat and tugging him, by a handful of fabric, towards his bed. Sokka flops down and pats the space next to him. “Come on, sit. It feels like we have a lot to go over.”

Zuko sits down, a few inches further away from Sokka than the spot that he’d indicated. Zuko stares at his lap for a few seconds, then glances over, his golden eyes brooding.

“So what’s – what do _you_ think we should do? Besides holding hands.”

Sokka considers that, crossing his arms as he thinks. Then, he smiles sheepishly, feeling somewhere in the crossroads between embarrassed and nervous.

“Well…”

Zuko shoots him a tired look. “Well, what?”

“It’s just that –” Sokka starts, struggling over how to best phrase his words – “I’m sort of, well, _notorious_ for, when I’m in a relationship, being…physically affectionate.”

“Notorious,” Zuko repeats back to him.

"For being physically affectionate,” Sokka finishes. “Yes. I mean. You remember how I was with Suki, right?”

Zuko snorts again, averting his gaze and focusing on a point in his lap. “Yeah. I remember.”

The awkwardness in the air is suddenly palpable, and the part of Zuko’s face that Sokka can see through sheets of dark hair has tense written all over it, so he hurries on. “Right. Yes. So, given that, I think that it would probably be best if I can be, you know, affectionate. Physically. And emotionally, too, of course, like, I love pet names so, calling you babe and – other stuff, I can think on that, come up with some Zuko specific nicknames – that’s probably important. We should probably do that. Because that’s what people would expect, and I think that it would be conspicuous if, for some reason, I wasn’t affectionate, you know, physically and emotionally, with you, my boyfriend of _six months_.”

Sokka says the last bit maybe a little bit _too_ sarcastically, because Zuko looks back up at him, his accusatory glare not entirely distracting from the pink flush that’s spreading across his cheeks. “Hey, _you’re_ the one who said that we were in _love_ , I was just trying to respond to that with a timeline that actually made sense!”

“And you did wonderfully,” Sokka says earnestly, “But that also means that we have to act like we’re in love, not like we’re in a new relationship, which we could have, had you not said _six months_.”

“Again, I only said that because –”

“I know, I know, everything’s Sokka’s fault,” Sokka groans, and he collapses backwards onto the bed, flinging an arm over his face dramatically.

“In this particular case? Yeah,” Zuko says matter-of-factly, as though he hasn’t noticed Sokka’s tantrum, “It is your fault.”

“Okay, fine, it’s my fault,” Sokka concedes, his voice muffled by his arm.

He stiffens when he feels Zuko’s fingers wrap around his wrist, tugging it away from his eyes. Sokka tilts his chin down to his chest and finds that Zuko has thrown his legs up onto the bed and turned towards him, his eyes amused. “What?”

“Nothing,” Zuko says quickly, his expression suddenly reserved again. “Anyways. What _exactly_ do you mean by physically affectionate?”

Sokka hums. “Well, as you said, hand holding. That’s kind of the bare minimum.”

Sokka pauses, watching Zuko watch him.

“I mean,” he starts again, taking a deep breath and sitting back up, “With Suki, I wasn’t particularly shy about kissing. You know?”

“I know,” Zuko says flatly.

“But that doesn’t mean _we_ have to, in front of people,” Sokka clarifies, “It’s fine, _it’s cool_ , honestly, if you don’t want to, we can just say that we’re, you know. Private.”

Zuko looks skeptical. “The fact that you kept a relationship secret for six months is _already_ hard to believe.”

Sokka scoffs. “I think they believed it.”

“Maybe,” Zuko allows, “But if we’re going to _keep_ them believing it for two weeks at _least_ …it might come up.”

“Kissing?” Sokka asks.

“Kissing,” Zuko confirms, then abruptly drops his gaze.

Sokka bites his lip, then reaches out and grabs Zuko’s wrist, squeezing lightly. Zuko looks back up, and his forehead is creased in a way that makes Sokka’s stomach twist uneasily. Rather than even attempt to contemplate that, Sokka pulls back his hand and asks, “Do you want to – should we – try now?”

“ _No_!” Zuko’s eyes are wide, his cheeks bright red, and he had, just seconds ago, scooted away from Sokka so quickly that he’d nearly fallen off the bed. He grabs at one of the bedposts, steadying himself. “I mean,” he says shakily, clearly still startled from his near dive off the edge of the mattress, “That’s not necessary. I’m sure we can figure it out in the moment, _if_ such a moment _happens_ to occur.”

“Okay, okay, it was just a suggestion,” Sokka says casually, though his heart is inexplicably racing. “We don’t have to practice, we’ll just – spur of the moment. If it happens.”

“If it happens, I think we’ll manage,” Zuko says. After a beat, he asks, “Next question – how do we _end_ it?”

“End it?” Sokka asks, tilting his head.

“We have to break up at some point,” Zuko reminds him, “So, how are we going to do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ ,” Zuko says, frustration seeping into his tone, “That since we’re apparently in a – _significant_ relationship – it will be at least a semi big deal when we break up. Right?”

“Right,” Sokka says slowly. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Your lack of thinking tonight has been pretty obvious,” Zuko mutters, not unkindly. In fact, he’s grinning.

Sokka makes a disgruntled noise anyways. “Well, what do _you_ think, oh brilliant expert on fake relationships?”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “Well, will our breakup be amicable? Or are you going scream at me in front of a huge crowd, fire me, ship me back to the Fire Nation immediately, and never speak to me again?”

Sokka shoves Zuko’s arm, giving him a look.

“Don’t be stupid. Of course not. We’ll just. We’ll end it how we started it – as friends.” Sokka pauses, then amends his statement, “As best friends. We’ll tell everyone that our bond is just as strong as it always was, it’s just that we just realized that we weren’t right for each other _romantically._ But still, best friends.”

Zuko’s response of a small smile and a quiet, “Okay,” set off a strong twinge of guilt in Sokka’s stomach, which he pointedly ignores. For the time being.

“Okay,” Sokka agrees. “Okay. This is a good plan. It’ll be fine.”

“Of course it’ll be fine,” Zuko says, almost reproachfully, “You’ll never catch me betting against one of _your_ plans.”

It isn’t until later, once Zuko’s slipped back into the hallway to return to his own bedroom, (after checking cautiously for any of the staff, or worse, any of their friends), that the gravity of the situation fully hits him.

Sokka’s settled under his blankets, staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep as his head replays the night, over and over, his thoughts lingering on the way Zuko's arms had found his waist instinctively, when he'd thrown himself into his arms.

Reluctantly, Sokka considers the notion Zuko might be a little _too_ confident in his aptitude for formulating good plans.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as is implied by the 1/? and the lack of resolution of any kind, this is going to be a multi-chapter fic! if you're familiar with my writing at all, then this should come as no surprise to you. i am very excited about this story and i cannot wait to share it with all of you (:
> 
> thank you so much for reading! drop some comments!


	2. angels roll their eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw/cw: homophobia

Sokka is having a _very_ nice dream, when he’s unceremoniously jarred awake.

It’s one of those dreams that feels fuzzy around the edges, the moments not quite adding up to a cohesive plot, time skipping around inexplicably. If Sokka was asked to recall it though, in his conscious state, he’d probably just describe it as warm.

Someone, (he isn’t sure who), is softly stroking dream Sokka’s hair. Mystery fingers, thin and gentle, are working through his loose locks, as they lay…well, subconscious Sokka isn’t entirely sure where dream Sokka is currently located. Maybe a cloud?

It doesn’t really matter to him.

Dream Sokka’s eyes are closed, which is a why he’s not totally certain about his imaginary location. He isn’t worried about that, though – he’s focused on the continuous journey of those imagined fingers along his scalp, on the phantom feeling of a warm, almost familiar weight against his shoulder blades, and Sokka determines that he must be _leaning_ against the owner of the gentle fingers. He realizes that there’s a pressure against his cheek too, and concludes that actually, he’s lying in their lap. Which is…interesting.

Dream Sokka rolls over, relieving his cheek of the pressure, and is met with more warmth, spreading up his entire back. He grins to himself and prepares to open his eyes, to find out _who_ this lovely subconscious angel with magic fingers is and –

Someone – who Sokka is very soon going to yell at – knocks loudly on his door, jolting him out of his sleep.

For a brief moment Sokka wonders if it’s Zuko, but he quickly remembers that he’d explicitly _told_ Zuko last night that he would be sleeping in that morning, in response to which Zuko had rolled his eyes and said, “Okay, I’ll see you once you’re done hibernating.”

So no, not Zuko.

Sokka groans loudly, rolling over to shove his face into one of his pillows. It’s cold, and decidedly less comfortable than the subconsciously created lap he’d been snuggling in just moments ago.

It was his day _off_. Sokka was supposed to have the entire day to himself to do whatever he wanted (nothing) and yet someone was at his door, waking him up, _way_ too early in the morning to be allowed.

 _On his_ _day off_.

The fact that he was supposed to have this entire day to himself had comforted Sokka late the previous night, when, instead of sleeping, he had been overthinking every single way that the fake dating plan could possibly go wrong. He had been greatly looking forward to sleeping in until the sun through his window got too warm to ignore, then pulling his blankets over his head and falling back asleep anyways.

Instead, as though they can sense Sokka’s anger, the mystery person – or maybe evil spirit, because seriously it was _way_ too early for this – knocks again. Louder this time.

Sokka groans again, _also_ louder this time, _hoping_ that the person can hear his annoyance, then yells, “ _What_?”

There’s a pause and then Katara’s voice rings out, muffled slightly by the thick wooden door, but noticeably serious all the same. “Sokka, you need to get up!”

Sokka frowns to himself. Katara _knows_ that today is his day off. She knows that sleeping in is item number one on any day that Sokka’s schedule isn’t long enough to paper an entire room. And yet, here she is, attempting to rudely rouse him, and she sounds tense.

So, Sokka gets out of bed, grabbing the sleep pants that he’d kicked off in the middle of the night off the floor and pulling them on before stumbling to the door and flinging it open.

Katara’s eyes widen at the sight of him for a second before her face settles into a disgruntled frown. “You’re not even dressed?”

“ _I_ know that _you_ know that it’s my day off,” Sokka reminds her, “So no, at this unbearably early hour, I am not dressed. I wasn’t _planning_ on getting dressed or being conscious for at least another two hours. And after _that_ , I planned to take my _sweet_ time doing almost nothing for the rest of the day.”

“Your plans are cancelled,” Katara says flatly, grasping at Sokka’s arm and pushing him back into the room, closing the door behind her. “There’s an emergency council meeting.”

“Ow,” Sokka whines, pulling his arm out of Katara’s grip, before processing her words. “Wait, what? Why?”

“Because of your announcement last night,” Katara answers grimly, “They were – well, they apparently weren’t as aware of the feelings between you and Zuko as the rest of us were, so, it’s – well, I’m not entirely sure _what’s_ going to happen, Dad sort of implied that they didn’t _believe_ him when he told them, but they called a meeting and your presence is obviously _super_ necessary.”

Sokka gapes at her, and he tries to focus on just _one_ of the things she had said. After a pause, he tries, “What do you mean they didn’t believe him?”

“I mean _exactly_ that,” Katara replies as she walks over to Sokka’s closet, grabbing what seems to be the first tunic and pair of pants that she lays her eyes on. She turns around and tosses them at Sokka, who just barely catches them. “I think _they_ think that Dad made it up, or that _you_ did, in order to get out of an arranged marriage, or something. So, I’m _guessing_ the meeting is them wanting to, you know, call you on that.”

Sokka gulps. When Katara raises an eyebrow at him, he notices that he’s clutching her chosen outfit for him tightly in his hands, wrinkling the fabric. He loosens his grip and asks, hopefully calmly, “So I’m supposed to what – prove that I’m not lying?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Katara says with a frown, “But if I had to guess, yes.”

Sokka just stares back, unsure of what _to_ say. Because, you know. He _is_ lying. His relationship with Zuko is exactly what the elders guessed it was – a lie, a fraud, an _excuse_ to get out of a situation that he didn’t want to be in. Sokka had gotten caught up in the euphoria and dazed shock that all of his friends, his dad, and Bato had all just _believed_ him without (too much) question, that he hadn’t stopped to wonder if the elders would be so easily convinced.

Now, Sokka’s just ashamed that he’s even _surprised_ that they had seen right through him. What did this say about what they thought about him? Did they think that he didn’t take his role seriously? Did they think that he would lie to get out of his responsibilities? If they did, they were _right_ about that, because he _is_ lying and, Sokka realizes with a start, he’s not even planning to _stop_ lying. Instead, he’s starting to contemplate how to _best_ convince the council that he is in fact dating Zuko, trying to fabricate anecdotes and evidence in his mind – he hadn’t even _considered_ coming clean. And what did _that_ say about his ability to –

“Sokka?”

Katara is staring at him, her eyebrows furrowed with worry. Sokka wonders if she can hear his heartbeat thudding in his chest, if the panic racing through his veins is evident on his face. He looks down and finds that he’s nearly crushed the tunic in his fists. It’s beyond being decent enough to wear, especially in front of the council.

“I’m – fuck – I’m sorry –” Sokka starts to apologize, but Katara waves a hand, her eyes wide as she approaches him slowly, reaching out for the tunic.

“It’s fine,” she says gently, “You have plenty of clothes. Give me that and put your pants on.” Sokka hands the tunic to her wordlessly, waiting for her to turn her back before changing. When she’s back in front of him, new shirt in hand, she’s settled her face into a comforting gaze.

Katara hands the shirt to him, waiting quietly while he pulls it on, then says, “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you what was going on more – I don’t know, less _aggressively_ , I guess. I know, or I guess I don’t know, but I – it’s already a lot that we all found out about you and Zuko before you were ready to tell us, and I’m really sorry about that, by the way, that shouldn’t have –” Katara takes a deep breath, seemingly trying to steady herself before continuing – “And now it’s being _doubted_. I can’t imagine how hard that must be. No one ever really questioned me and Aang.”

“Why would they?” Sokka asks. He laughs, though it doesn’t come out quite as light as he means it to – it sounds…sad. “I mean, he’s the _Avatar_.”

“Yeah. That’s true,” Katara says, her lips turning down slightly, “But that’s not the point. The point is, I’m sorry that this is happening and even though I’m not supposed to come into the council meeting, which – _stupid_ – if you need me to fight any of those old men, you _know_ that I will.”

An incredibly vivid image flashes across Sokka’s mind of Katara, face set in anger, storming towards Pakku and flinging her coat backwards into his arms. He grins despite himself, despite the anxiety that’s made a home in his stomach. “I _do_ know that.”

“Okay,” Katara says, exhaling sharply. “Okay. It’s going to be fine – I’m sure they just want clarification directly from you. It’ll be fine.” Sokka isn’t sure if she’s reassuring him or herself.

He’s also not sure that _all_ the elders want is clarification, but Katara looks as though she’s calmed herself back down and he isn’t going to be the one to send her into an emotional spiral. He’s got plenty of internal spiraling happening for both of them.

Sokka follows as Katara pulls the door back open and moves to rush ahead of her. She’d made it clear that he was _very_ late. Or, so he’d thought.

“Sokka, wait!” Katara shouts from behind him, hurrying to catch up. “Where are you going?”

Sokka gives her a confused look. “To the – to the council?”

Katara grabs his arm, pulling him backwards into a stumbled stop. “The meeting isn’t for half an hour.”

“Then _why_ did you wake me up so early?”

“So you could have breakfast,” Katara answers simply, dropping Sokka’s arm and walking ahead, turning down the hallway that led to the small dining room. “Figured you’d want some food in your stomach for this.”

Sokka hurries to catch up with her. “Thanks – that’s probably a good idea.” They walk in silence for a moment, then Sokka asks, “So, is it just me, Dad and the elders? Or –”

“Well,” Katara says slowly, “The council requested that any ambassadors that are currently here also attend. So the Ambassador from Omashu, the one from Ba Sing Se, and Kedinuk from the Northern Water Tribe and –”

“ _Zuko’s_ going to this?”

Katara shoots him a troubled look. “Yes, he’s going, as the Fire Nation Ambassador. The whole, _defending the relationship_ bit is up to you, I think. But – isn’t it good? That he’ll be there?”

Sokka makes a discontented noise and shrugs. Sokka supposes that if Zuko _was_ his boyfriend, it would be comforting for him to be there, as moral support. But, as Zuko is not, in fact, his real boyfriend, all Sokka can think is that not only will he shortly be scrambling to come up with proof that their relationship is real, he’ll also have to do so in _front_ of Zuko which – embarrassing, to say the least.

To Katara though, Sokka says, “I don’t feel good about him having to sit there silently, unable to defend himself.”

Katara hums thoughtfully. “I don’t think he has to be _silent._ I assume that he’ll be allowed to offer his thoughts, within his capacity as an ambassador.”

“So the _other_ ambassadors are going to weigh in on my dating life?” Sokka resists the urge to groan loudly, but it’s a close thing.

Katara seems to notice his restraint and pats him on the shoulder sympathetically. “Seems that way.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Sokka mutters under his breath, pushing on the door to the dining room and leaning against it, holding it open for Katara.

“Probably try to hold off on that kind of language once you’re in front of the council,” Katara suggests as she slides by him, turning to wave at whoever is already in the room. Sokka turns and – oh. Fuck.

Zuko and Toph are seated at the long dining room table, huddled together. Zuko’s dressed in his Ambassador garments, his hair pulled half up into his usual topknot, looking far more put together than Sokka knows _he_ does, thanks to Katara’s completely unnecessary rushing.

It’s good, Sokka thinks, that Zuko is wearing red today and not one of the Water Tribe blue outfits he’s stolen from Sokka over the past year. It was always…unsettling for Sokka when Zuko wore blue. Whenever it happened, besides when Zuko wore Sokka’s coat because that was a _lot_ and Sokka had finally gotten used to it, Sokka’s stomach felt weird and tingly. He felt almost _unnerved,_ and always ended up distracted from whatever work they were trying to do, by the strangeness of it. So – good. It was good, that Zuko was wearing red and not blue. Sokka didn’t think he could handle that kind of distraction during the meeting.

Toph is dressed far more casually which means, Sokka hopes, that she _won’t_ be attending his public humiliation in front of the council. The pair of them are whispering to each other, heads close, and far too quietly for Sokka to eavesdrop. Annoying.

Toph appears to sense their presence, her head lifting up and a grin spreading across her face. “Sparky, your boyfriend’s here!”

Zuko’s cheeks go pink and Sokka can just barely hear him grumble, “Shut up,” to Toph, who laughs in response.

“Are you coming?”

Katara’s turned around, frowning at Sokka, who realizes that he’s frozen, his back still pressed up against the door. He unplasters himself from the wood and walks towards the table, and it feels a bit like walking through mud. Or, maybe quicksand. Sokka’s legs feel heavy but his mind is racing, because he hadn’t expected to see Zuko until the council meeting, and he had figured that _then_ he wouldn’t have to actually interact with Zuko in a way that wasn’t entirely professional. Now though, in front of their friends…

What was the appropriate way to greet him?

They had decided, the previous night, that overt affection absolutely _was_ on the table, and was likely to be expected by the rest of the group, but Sokka’s stomach felt like it was currently home to about a thousand butterflies. Or, more accurately, a thousand giant Si Wong desert buzzard wasps.

Zuko is watching him cautiously – or at least Sokka _thinks_ that’s caution on his face, his eyebrow ever so slightly lifted, his mouth in a straight line, like he’s trying to figure out what Sokka is going to do before he does it. It would be really helpful if Zuko could _tell_ Sokka what he thinks he’s going to do, because he’s struggling to decide on that himself. If it was Suki, he’d definitely go for a good morning kiss, but as he makes eye contact with Zuko’s lips –

He’s not ready for that yet.

A pet name could work. That’s easy.

Ish.

Sokka mentally flips through the list of Zuko-related nicknames that he’d come up with around two in the morning – “turtleduck” was adorable, in his opinion, but he’s fairly certain that Zuko will be far too surprised by that for the moment to pass casually, and he _loves “_ baby,” it’s his _favorite_ pet name to use, actually, but again, Sokka doesn’t think that will go over well. So, as he arrives in front of Zuko, his heart beating slightly irregularly, Sokka leans in to plant a kiss to the top of Zuko’s head, (and notices that his hair is like, _bizarrely_ soft), and says, with a grin –

“Morning, hot stuff!”

Zuko flushes a deeper red than the long sleeve tunic he’s wearing and doesn’t immediately answer. Thank Tui and La that Sokka hadn’t landed on “my eternal flame” as his initial pet name of choice.

“Ew,” Toph comments from the head of the table, as Sokka plops down into the empty seat next to Zuko. Katara sits down next to Toph and shoots Sokka a strange look.

“What?”

Katara startles, apparently surprised that Sokka had noticed her staring.

“Nothing.”

But her eyes flicker once more between Sokka and Zuko, her lips pursed tightly.

Okay. So, a kiss on the head is too chaste for Sokka’s standards.

Good to know, for a time that wasn’t right then.

Sokka can feel Zuko’s eyes on the side of his head and can almost hear him saying, _I told you so_.

He sincerely hopes that Zuko can hear him saying, _shut up_ , right back.

Neither of them say either of those things - instead, Zuko wraps an arm around the back of Sokka’s chair and plants a kiss on his cheek (probably trying to one-up Sokka’s utter failure in the PDA department) and says in a voice so soft that it makes Sokka feel tingly (and fuck, it’s _annoying_ how good at this he is), “Morning. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sokka responds, turning his head to look at Zuko in confusion, “I’m fine. Why?”

Zuko looks away from him and to Katara. “You told him about the meeting, right?”

“Yes,” Katara retorts, “ _And_ I told him that you were going.”

“I wasn’t sure that _you_ knew yet!” Sokka exclaims, his eyes still on Zuko.

Zuko gives him a look. “If I’m _going_ to the meeting, why wouldn’t I _know_ about the meeting?”

“Look, I’ve only been awake for like, fifteen minutes, can you all back off?” Sokka whines, crossing his arms and sliding down in his seat. He slips even lower when Toph and Katara start laughing.

Suddenly, Zuko’s leaning close again and when he speaks, his voice is low enough that only Sokka hears him.

“Seriously though, are you okay? Katara only gave me the details that _she_ had, which wasn’t much, but…” Zuko trails off.

Sokka’s _not_ fine. Not really.

His mind is playing two tracks simultaneously; trains of thought that feel like they’re yelling over each other – _you need to act normal in front of everyone, act like Zuko’s your boyfriend and don’t be weird or awkward or everyone will find out and realize you’re a liar_ and _all of the elders already think that I’m an idiot, and lazy, and a liar, and_ –

“Sokka?”

Zuko’s pulled his arm back from Sokka’s chair, his eyes are troubled, and he’s reaching out to try to pull at one of Sokka’s hands, which are tucked tightly into his crossed arms. Sokka uncrosses his arms and lets him. To appease train of thought number one. Obviously.

“I’m fine, really,” Sokka reassures him quietly, looking up from where Zuko’s skin is warm against his, “Just – a lot of information early in the morning.”

“It _was_ your day off,” Zuko says, playfully mournful.

Sokka groans and leans back in his chair. “Exactly. _Exactly_.”

“What are you moaning about?” Toph interjects, “I hope you two aren’t fighting. That’s not a good look for the council meeting.”

“We’re not _fighting_ ,” Sokka snaps, pulling his and Zuko’s joined hands from where they’re hidden under the table and waving them around in Toph’s direction. “See?”

Toph gives his general direction an incredibly pointed stare. “What _exactly_ am I supposed to be looking at here, Snoozles?”

Katara snorts into the cup of tea she’s drinking. Zuko squeezes Sokka’s hand supportively, but Sokka can see out of the corner of his eye that he’s only _just_ holding back laughter.

“We’re – _whatever_ ,” Sokka retorts intelligently, tugging his hand away from Zuko. “Shut up.”

“Who’s shutting up?”

Sokka looks up to see Aang dropping into the open seat next to Katara, an easy smile on his face.

“Everyone but you, and that’s only because you just got here,” Sokka mutters, using his now free hands to pull the plate of puffin-seal sausages in the middle of the table towards him. “You’re on probation. Don’t annoy me, and you can keep talking.”

“I’ll try my best,” Aang says seriously, his expression concerned as he watches Sokka start to shovel food into his mouth. “Are you ready for the council? Is there anything I can do to help you prepare?”

Sokka groans through a mouthful of sausage and glares at Katara. “Was I the _last_ person to find out about this?”

“Suki and Ty Lee don’t know,” Toph notes, “But that’s only because they’re probably still asleep.”

“Lucky them,” Sokka grumbles.

“Plus,” Aang adds, “I’m going, so –”

Sokka drops his chopsticks in surprise. “ _You’re going too_? Katara, you didn’t say –”

“I was getting to it?” Katara says with a shrug, but any attempt at an apology is overwhelmed by Aang’s eager explanation.

“Of course I’m going! Chief Hakoda said that they always appreciate my opinion, as the Avatar, and we all agreed another person on your and Zuko’s side certainly wouldn’t _hurt_ , and I hope that I can help, actually, if that’s okay with you, Sokka.”

Sokka takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “Yeah. That’s okay. Thanks, Aang.”

“No thanks necessary,” Aang assures him, looking between him and Zuko with a smile, “I just want to do whatever I can to help both of you.”

Sokka just smiles back at him and hopes it doesn’t look as weak as it feels. The lingering look of worry in Aang’s eyes does nothing to reassure him of that.

The next ten minutes pass with quiet chatter between Toph, Katara and Aang. Sokka tries to focus on eating – and it seems, so does Zuko, because he doesn’t participate in the group conversation, nor does he try to force Sokka into talking, which he appreciates. Sokka’s not sure that he would be able to say anything that wouldn’t give away how much his anxiety is increasing as the time silently ticks away.

Finally, Katara gives Sokka a significant look and says, “We should head to the council chambers. It’s probably best if you’re a little bit early.”

“We? I thought you weren’t going.”

“I’m not – I’m not _allowed_ to,” Katara confirms, the annoyance in her voice strong, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t go with you to the door.”

“Moral support and all that,” Toph says, leaning across Zuko to pat Sokka’s arm.

Sokka just nods.

As they all stand, Zuko reaches out for Sokka’s hand again. His fingers linger against Sokka’s palm, not intertwining their fingers yet, but waiting. Asking. _Is this okay?_

Sokka answers by lacing their fingers together and squeezing Zuko’s hand before glancing over to meet his eyes. _Best to go into this as a united front_.

Even if Zuko would have to (try to) remain neutral once the meeting started. Even if he would have to let go of Sokka’s hand almost immediately upon their arrival, because while affection was necessary to convince their friends of the relationship’s legitimacy, Sokka has a sneaking feeling that it won’t have the same effect on the elders.

Zuko’s hand, right now, is warm in his. Steadying. Sokka’s not calm, by any means, but there’s something indescribably comforting about being attached, however delicately, to Zuko in that moment. Sokka is already dreading the moment that fragile bond breaks.

The walk is quiet, punctured only by Katara, Aang and Toph quietly whispering to each other. Trying to give Sokka and Zuko a moment of privacy, Sokka assumes.

There isn’t really anything _to_ say. It’s not like they can slip away and get their stories straight – really, that’s something they should’ve done the previous night, but things had gotten weird and awkward and Sokka had _thought_ they’d have a little more time to talk about things like _how did this first start_ and _why didn’t you say anything before now_ over the next few days. The universe, as per usual, loves proving him wrong.

When they arrive in front of the doors to the council chambers, Katara spins around and pulls Sokka into a tight hug that knocks his hand out of Zuko’s.

“I was serious. I will fight _any_ of them,” she whispers into his ear and Sokka lets out a shaky laugh.

“And I was serious – I know you will. But, like you said, they probably just want to hear it from me,” Sokka says, taking real effort to keep his voice calm, “It’ll be fine. Don’t stress yourself out while you’re waiting.”

Katara pulls back, resting her hands on his shoulders and squeezing before dropping her arms to her sides. “Okay. Good luck. Toph and I will be _right_ here when you’re done.”

Sokka gives her a thumbs up, then looks at Aang and Zuko. “Ready?”

Zuko merely shrugs but Aang returns the thumbs up that was aimed at Katara and smiles widely. “Let’s do this.”

The council chambers aren’t massive – they’re nothing like the sweeping, gold-adorned, high-ceilinged war room in the Fire Nation Palace that Zuko had shown him when Iroh had first taken over as Fire Lord. The Southern Water Tribe council chambers had no wall of flames or looming throne. Instead it had three tables that faced each other, forming a sort of half circle. Hakoda and Sokka sat at the head table, the Southern Water Tribe elders/councilmen sat at one table, and the ambassadors (and Aang, when he was around), sat at the other.

The intimidation of the council chambers lied not with the architecture but with the group of elders – or, rather councilmen, as they’re addressed in this setting – already seated in their designated space, whispering amongst each other. Or, three of them – Vinoq, Sorrok and Koatas – are. Bato sits to their right, closest to the head table and is either ignoring them or being ignored _by_ them. If Sokka had to guess, he’d land on the former. Hakoda is already sitting at the head table and had glanced up at their entrance into the room. Now, he’d returned his gaze to a parchment in front of him. Trying to be professional, Sokka assumes. Neither of the Earth Kingdom ambassadors seemed to have arrived yet, but Aang had bolted to take his seat, leaving Sokka alone next to Zuko.

Sokka turns at the exact moment Zuko does, and meeting his gaze feels a bit like looking directly into the sun.

“Should we –” Sokka starts to say, but Zuko shakes his head.

“No time to strategize,” Zuko says as quietly as possible. Sokka glances over towards the councilmen – none of them seem to have heard.

“Okay,” Sokka agrees, and repeats himself. “Okay.”

There are a lot of reasons Sokka could use to explain what he does next – it might convince the elders this is real, Aang is watching from across the room, Zuko’s eyes are narrowed and concerned – but the real reason that Sokka reaches out and grabs Zuko’s hand, squeezes it, and gives him the most reassuring grin he can manage is simple. He just _wants_ to do it.

Zuko looks a little startled – which Sokka reasons is entirely fair, since this is not their silently agreed upon plan – but not unhappy. He squeezes Sokka’s hand back, returns his grin with a small smile, and lets go, walking to join Aang at their table.

Sokka exhales and goes to take his seat by Hakoda, nodding politely towards the councilmen as he passes them. Only Bato returns his nod.

“Morning,” he says, as casually as possible, as he sits down.

“Good morning, Sokka,” Hakoda answers, looking up from the parchment in front of him, “Are you alright?”

Sokka shrugs. “Not entirely sure what I’m in for here. Katara was kind of vague. Were those _your_ instructions?”

Hakoda gives him a pained look. “No, Sokka, not at all. And I’m really sorry that this is happening at all – this isn’t at all how I imagined it would happen.”

“What _did_ happen?” Sokka questions, trying to focus. “I mean what, you told them, and they said _what_ exactly? Did they –”

Someone coughing loudly cuts off Sokka’s speech. Hakoda and Sokka both look up to find Councilman Vinoq, the oldest and most _elder_ ly of the bunch, staring at them severely. Sokka’s eyes shift to where Zuko and Aang are sitting and sees that Ambassador Kedinuk from the Northern Water Tribe and Ambassador Guan, from Ba Sing Se, have arrived and taken their seats.

Hakoda clears his throat. “Yes, Councilman Vinoq?”

“Thank you, Chief Hakoda. I was wondering if we’re going to be starting soon. It appears that everyone is here.”

Hakoda frowns. “I don’t see Ambassador Shang.”

Ambassador Guan holds up a folded piece of parchment and says, “Chief Hakoda, I have a note from Ambassador Shang’s advisor. He’s decided to abstain from this meeting.”

Hakoda pauses for a few seconds before responding. “Abstain?”

Ambassador Guan nods nervously, seeming to weigh his words, then thrusts the parchment forward, as though to give it to Hakoda. “May I?”

“Of course.”

Ambassador Guan stands and approaches Hakoda and Sokka, giving Sokka a strange look before dropping the parchment into Hakoda’s open hand. “As you can see from the unbroken seal, I didn’t read it, so I’m not sure –”

Hakoda waves his hand dismissively. “Thank you, Ambassador, I’ll take a look.”

Sokka watches as Hakoda breaks the seal, his forehead furrowing deeply as his eyes quickly rove over the short note. He takes a deep breath then looks up.

“Ambassador Shang has asked that I pass along that he finds the reason for this meeting to be, and these are his words, ‘a waste of his time and incredibly frivolous.’” Vinoq, Sorrok and Koatas all scoff, but Hakoda continues loudly over their disgruntled noises. “For those reasons, he has decided to abstain from the meeting as a whole and will rejoin us once the topic at hand has been addressed. I don’t want to discuss Ambassador Shang’s choice any further – I would rather we get straight to the reason this meeting was called.” Hakoda tilts his head towards where the councilmen are still grumbling. “Sorrok, you’re the one who suggested that this meeting be called immediately. How about you let us know why we’re all here?”

Councilman Sorrok looks slightly startled to be called upon but shakes it off fairly quickly. He stands, walking to take his place in the space between the two tables and directly across from Hakoda and Sokka.

Ah, yes. Somewhere in the haze of the morning, Sokka has forgotten – or willfully repressed – the presentation style of council meetings that forced people to stand in front of the group with a figurative spotlight glaring in their eyes. Oddly enough, he feels no more stressed than he already was. If he’s going to make a fool of himself, he might as well throw in some public speaking.

Councilman Sorrok clears his throat and looks around at the room – to his fellow councilmen, to the ambassadors and Aang, and to Hakoda and Sokka. He doesn’t quite meet Sokka’s eyes. “We’re here today because of the information that Chief Hakoda –” he pauses, considering his words – “ _Informed_ us of last night. Just a few days ago, the council at large made the decision that Sokka, next in line for Chief, should enter into the betrothal process. This was decided by a majority of three votes in favor, two votes in opposition.”

Sokka didn’t have to think hard about which of the five voting members of the council – Hakoda included – voted which way or the other.

“The decision was that we would begin the process of finding a suitable partner – a suitable future co-leader of the Southern Water Tribe – in accordance with Sokka’s upcoming twenty-first birthday. As everyone here is aware, once Sokka turns twenty-one, if something were to happen to Chief Hakoda, then Sokka would become Chief. Spirits willing, this won’t be a problem, but either way – Sokka should be prepared, in all senses, to take on the role of Chief. This includes having an appropriate partner by his side.”

There’s a long pause, during which Councilman Sorrok meets Sokka’s wide-eyed gaze. The serious line of Sorrok’s mouth tilts down before he continues. “However, before we could even begin that process, Chief Hakoda informed us that Sokka has already found himself a –” Sorrok pauses again, his voice becoming, if possible, colder – “A partner. Of sorts.”

“You still haven’t said _why_ we’re all here,” Hakoda interrupts, and spirits, if Sokka thought Sorrok’s voice was harsh, it was nothing in comparison to the anger burning in Hakoda’s. It’s enough to make Sorrok start, but only just.

“We’re here,” he answers, squaring his shoulders back, “To find out from Sokka if what you told us is true and, if it is, to decide how we as a council will be moving forward with this information.”

Hakoda stares back at him, his face unreadable. After a pause long enough to make Sorrok shift uncomfortably in place, Hakoda asks, “Is that all?”

Undeterred by the dismissiveness in Hakoda’s tone, Sorrok nods. “That is all.”

“You can sit down,” Hakoda says, then turns to Sokka, lowering his voice and saying, “They want to hear from you. I can tell them no, if you want. You don’t have to do this.”

For a split second, Sokka considers taking Hakoda up on his offer. But that will just prove them right – will prove that he isn’t a fit leader, that he couldn’t take responsibility for his actions, that he isn’t capable of making choices and sticking to them and – no. Sokka shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. I can do it.”

Hakoda grabs Sokka’s wrist under the table, squeezes it supportively, and says nothing else.

When Sorrok is settled back in his seat, Sokka stands and takes his place in the space across from Hakoda. He takes a steadying breath and glances towards where Aang and Zuko are sitting. Aang gives him a supportive smile and Zuko – his face doesn’t change, not conspicuously at least. But Sokka can see the slight upturn of the edges of his lips, meant only for him to notice, and feels calmer. He turns away and towards the council, focusing on Sorrok.

“First, I’d like to thank the council for their concern about my preparedness for the role of Chief and for the future of the Southern Water Tribe. I also want to say that I deeply respect their opinions and the effort that I’m sure they put into the plan to find me a – uh – suitable partner. However, Dad – I mean, Chief Hakoda – was correct. Ambassador Zuko and I –” Sokka pauses and looks at Zuko again, shooting him a nervous half smile that he hopes looks affectionate in the way he means it to – “are together. Romantically. So, I’m not exactly on the market for anyone else.”

Sokka’s eyes are still on Zuko – who’s allowed himself to smile in return – when Councilman Koatas speaks for the first time.

“The goal was not for you to have _any_ partner,” he says in a gruff voice, standing from his seat, “It was for you to have a suitable partner, a partner appropriate for the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe.”

The surge of defensiveness rises in Sokka’s chest before he can stop it, before he can think about a polite way to phrase his response, and he spits out, “What, are you saying that Ambassador Zuko isn’t a _suitable_ partner, whatever that means?”

Koatas lets out a displeased noises and says, “ _Whatever that means_ is a partner that would uphold Southern Water Tribe values.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

Sokka isn’t trying to sound angry, honestly, but his cheeks feels hot and his hands feel shaky – which, aren’t entirely abnormal symptoms for him to have while public speaking, but he knows it’s not that. He knows, however subconsciously, that what’s sending him into a rage is what Koatas is not so subtly implying.

“The fact that you don’t know what Councilman Koatas is talking about is further proof that this decision should not be up to you,” Councilman Vinoq interjects.

“Are you saying you’re going to _arrange_ a marriage for me?”

“If that’s what needs to be done, then yes,” Councilman Vinoq answers simply.

Sokka takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself back down before retorting, in his steadiest voice, “Chief Hakoda didn’t have an arranged marriage.” Sokka looks towards his dad, hoping for a nod of agreement or a smile or _something_ – he gets none of that. Instead, the already present frown on Hakoda’s face deepens, and Sokka knows, before Councilman Sorrok jumps in.

“Your father became Chief during a completely different time in our history – during a war – during a hundred years of devastation by the Fire Nation.”

Sokka doesn’t need to follow Sorrok’s eyeline to know that he’s directed the last bit of his sentence at Zuko, but he does anyways, and tries to meet Zuko’s alarmed gaze. Zuko doesn’t look away from Councilman Sorrok though.

“I know that this is a different time,” Sokka says loudly, pulling Sorrok’s attention away from Zuko, “But why does that make it necessary for my future partner to be chosen by the council instead of by me?”

“As we said, Sokka,” Councilman Koatas explains, his tone condescending, “It’s necessary that you have a suitable partner, a partner that is politically advantageous and respectful of the Southern Water Tribe’s culture and values. We, the Southern Water Tribe as a whole, need to put forward a strong face to the world. If what you said is true – if you’re engaged in _relations_ with Ambassador Zuko, then it is clear to me, and to the rest of the council that voted in the majority, that you are not capable of choosing such a partner for yourself.”

Anger, and something that feels like shame, bubble up inside of Sokka, reaching a boiling point. He hears Hakoda’s interjection of, “ _Now, hold on_ ,” hears Aang make a shocked and upset sound, but it all sounds very far away, and he isn’t thinking about anything but wiping the smug, disdainful look off of Koatas’s face when he all but yells, “What, because Zuko’s a _guy_? Is _that_ the problem?”

A long, painfully uncomfortable silence fills the room. Sokka isn’t sure where to look – he can’t handle looking at Hakoda, nor does he think whatever positive, encouraging face Aang has on will do anything but shoot his nerves through the ceiling, and he _really_ doesn’t want to look at Zuko right now, so he focuses his gaze on the council themselves. Bato looks concerned, and Vinoq and Sorrok’s faces are unreadable. Councilman Koatas is glaring at Sokka, but he isn’t speaking. His mouth is twitching slightly, though.

“Ambassador Zuko’s…gender…isn’t the problem,” Councilman Vinoq answers, in Koatas’s place, and it’s clear to Sokka, from his tone, from the way he _won’t_ make eye contact, that he’s lying. “It’s-”

“Isn’t it though?” Sokka interrupts, glaring at him. “Or are you saying that it would be perfectly fine if I marry some – I don’t know, some guy from the Earth Kingdom? I have a friend, Haru, should I write to him?”

“If you wanted to marry ‘some guy’ from the Earth Kingdom we could…it could be handled.” Councilman Vinoq drops his gaze, not even bothering to look at Sokka’s shoulder anymore.

“Handled,” Sokka repeats, and Councilman Vinoq nods at the table. Sokka throws his hands up in frustration because what the fuck does _that_ even mean? “Well that’s not – that’s not even the point. I don’t want to marry someone from the Earth Kingdom, I want to marry – I mean, I’m _dating_ Zuko. Whatever bias you all have towards him is – well it’s ridiculous, okay? He’s been an Ambassador here for a year, and he’s been _nothing_ but incredible at that. He’s a natural leader, and he’s kind, and compassionate and patient and – he’s everything that someone could want in a partner, so I don’t understand – it doesn’t matter what I don’t understand, or why you think that he’s _unsuitable_. We’re dating and that’s not changing anytime soon, so if you have a problem with that, then what you need to figure out at your _next_ meeting is how you’ll deal with that. It’s _my_ decision.”

“Sokka –” Hakoda says cautiously, and Sokka’s mouth clamps shut. No one else speaks, so Hakoda continues. “Councilmen, I think that what Sokka’s saying is completely fair. The council voted in favor of Sokka marrying _someone_ – that was _all_ that was officially decided. The nationality of the person – or the time at which he _would_ be married – was never specified.” Sokka let out a breath of relief – prematurely.

“Chief Hakoda,” Councilman Koatas interrupts, “You know _damn_ well what it would look like for the Chief to be married to a man – let alone one from the _Fire Nation_ – let alone Fire Nation _royalty –_ ”

“ _Enough_ ,” Hakoda shouts, and Councilman Koatas falls silent. “I’ve heard plenty from this side of the room. Ambassadors Guan and Kedinuk, do you have anything to contribute to this conversation? I know that both of you had prepared lists of potential partners.”

Sokka tries to keep his shock at that off his face. How _long_ exactly had this plan existed before it was voted on?

Ambassador Kedinuk speaks up first, from Zuko’s left. “I agree with the council that the relationship that Sokka has proposed would be…ill received. I think it would be best to move forward with our original plan.”

Zuko’s face falls, and Sokka has a very strong urge to rush across the room and punch Ambassador Kedinuk in the nose.

Hakoda nods stiffly. “Thank you for sharing your view, Ambassador Kedinuk. Ambassador Guan?”

Ambassador Guan glances across Ambassador Kedinuk at Zuko and Aang, then over to Sokka. His eyes stay locked on Sokka’s as he answers, “I think – well, the list is available, if you need it. But I don’t think it’s my place to make this decision. I can offer that Fire Lord Iroh has been more than cooperative in the efforts to rebuild areas of the Earth Kingdom and that the healing relationship between our nations has, thus far, had more benefits than problems.”

Sokka decides that Ambassador Guan is his favorite of the group.

“Thank you, Ambassador Guan,” Hakoda says, his nod kinder this time. “Ambassador Zuko, do you have anything you’d like to contribute to the conversation?”

Hakoda’s voice is soft, but Zuko startles nonetheless, as though he wasn’t expecting to be called on at all.

“I –” Zuko teeters on the edge of speech, his eyes flashing to Sokka’s for a moment before focusing on Hakoda – “No. No, thank you, Chief Hakoda.”

Hakoda frowns, but nods. “You’re welcome. Avatar Aang – do you have any wisdom you’d like to offer?”

It’s incredibly weird, Sokka notes internally, to listen to Hakoda refer to Aang like a colleague rather than the eighteen-year-old that’s dating his daughter.

Aang takes it in stride.

“Yes, actually,” he starts, giving Zuko a significant, warm glance, “I’d like to speak in defense of my friend, Ambassador Zuko, if the council will allow it.”

Hakoda nods. “The council allows it.”

“Great,” Aang says cheerily, turning away from Hakoda to focus on the rest of the council.

They’re not glaring – to glare at the Avatar would break about a million social rules – but it’s a close thing.

“I want to say that I completely understand where you’re all coming from,” Aang says seriously, “Mistrusting the Fire Nation is entirely justified. I don’t fault anyone for being cautious at the idea of forming bonds, especially a bond as serious as a romantic relationship, with someone from the Fire Nation. However, I _have_ to say that the incredibly valid reasons to mistrust the Fire Nation as a whole – they don’t apply to Ambassador Zuko. Ambassador Zuko is everything that Sokka said and more – he’s a true, loyal friend and I think that you’re doing yourselves a disservice by not allowing him a chance to prove himself as a worthy partner to Sokka, and as a potential leader in the Southern Water Tribe.”

There’s a brief quiet when Aang finishes that makes Sokka feel uncomfortable, so he breaks the silence. “Can we have that?”

Hakoda looks over at him in confusion, but it’s Councilman Sorrok who responds. “Have what?”

“A chance,” Sokka clarifies, “A chance to prove that Zu – Ambassador Zuko _is_ a ‘suitable partner.’”

None of the councilmen answer, at first, so Hakoda interjects, “I think that’s a perfectly reasonable request.”

The three of them look at each other, and Sokka can _feel_ that they want to say no, but he thinks – he hopes – that they’ve been backed into a corner.

“Fine,” Councilman Koatas answers, finally. “You can have a _chance_.”

“Your twenty-first birthday is still the deadline,” Councilman Vinoq says, “And we’ll check in with you before then, to tell you of our observations so far. A final decision will be made no later than the day after your birthday.”

“Okay,” Sokka says quickly, “Okay. That’s fine – okay.”

None of them respond, further than lingering glares and frowns.

“That’s settled, then,” Hakoda says loudly, drawing their attention to him. He stands up and adds, “This meeting is adjourned.”

The councilmen file out quickly, as do Ambassador Guan, Ambassador Kedinuk and Bato, but Hakoda, Aang and Zuko linger – the former two not for very long.

Hakoda approaches Sokka and clasps his shoulder. “Son, I’m sorry that was –”

Sokka shakes his head and interrupts him. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

Hakoda looks troubled but nods, turning to look at where Aang is chatting with Zuko. Sokka feels himself start to frown – Zuko doesn’t seem to be fully listening to what Aang is saying; in fact, he looks silently stunned.

Hakoda seems to notice this too and calls out, “Aang! Come walk with me? I wanted your opinion on the altered sea prunes recipe we served last night.”

Aang’s eyes widen but he nods quickly. “Yes, Chief Hakoda, sir, of course!”

Sokka swallows a snort as Aang hurries over, following Hakoda out the door.

And then there were two.

Sokka walks over and drops into Aang’s now vacated seat, pushing at Zuko’s arm.

“So.”

Zuko makes a noise of acknowledgement but doesn’t say anything.

“So,” Sokka starts again, “The plan isn’t really that much different from before. We’re just convincing a few more people than we thought.” Zuko stays silent, so Sokka decides to push on.

“Okay, so, we should start planning things out – how to make this as convincing as possible, you know? Because there can’t be any doubt at all.”

“Right,” Zuko says quietly, staring at his hands in his lap.

“Right,” Sokka repeats, trying to be unbothered by Zuko’s negative energy, trying to counter it with positivity, “So, step one, let’s decide on which pet names we should use for each other. Was hot stuff okay? I came up with a ton of other Zuko-y ones, like I said I would, like okay, turtleduck, because you know, you like them, and then baby, a classic -“

Zuko looks at him, finally, to grimace.

“That’s not specific to me, but - Sokka, that’s not –”

“Okay but it’s cute, right?” Sokka asks, not waiting for an answer. “I’m gonna use it, if you don’t mind it. Do you mind it?”

“No,” Zuko concedes, giving Sokka an exasperated look, “But that’s not - Sokka, focus.”

“On?”

Zuko’s noticeably frustrated when he responds, “On everything that just happened?”

“What about it?” Sokka asks, ignoring the way his heartbeat is alarmingly irregular, “It’s okay, it’s fine, now we just - we’ll have to be _really_ convincing, but we can do that, we’ll just try really hard. For example, by employing the use of creative pet names - what do you think of ‘my eternal flame’?”

Zuko flushes. “ _Sokka_.”

“What?”

“Did you hear a completely different conversation from what I heard?”

Sokka frowns at him. “I don’t think I did. What did you hear?”

“I heard,” Zuko says slowly, “That this is not a good plan. At all.”

Sokka’s stomach drops. “What?”

Zuko looks frustrated. “The council doesn’t want - they don’t think a theoretical relationship, between us, is a good idea.”

“So, we’ll convince them. They said we could try.”

“Sokka...”

“Are you backing out on me?” The idea makes Sokka’s heart sink into his stomach. “I know it’s a lot but, you said you would. I mean - I’m not going to force you, but also - you _said,_ and -”

Zuko gives him a pained, distressed look, and the urge to reach out and grab his hand is so strong that Sokka sits on his, just to stave it off. “I’m not trying to back out on you, I’m just trying to make sure that this is still the best plan. Because from what _I_ heard, it seems like this - the idea of this - is only going to make things worse.”

Sokka answers quickly, without even thinking about it. “I disagree.”

“Sokka…”

“No, listen! It’s fine – actually, this makes complete sense. Being a good leader means making unpopular decisions and standing by them. Not that – not that _you’re_ unpopular, that’s not what I meant, but I mean –”

“I know what you mean,” Zuko stops him before he can start babbling, “And I really appreciate everything you said about me. I do. Honestly. But are you _sure_ it wouldn’t just…be easier to call it now, before this gets out of hand?”

“ _No_ ,” Sokka insists, “No. If we broke up because of a _little_ negativity, how would that reflect on my ability to find a ‘suitable partner,’ or whatever, for myself? This is a _good_ plan. Proving that I’m committed to _you_ will prove to them that I can, you know, eventually, make this decision on my own with someone –” Sokka pauses, because he almost said _someone else_ , but the words had tasted acrid on his tongue. Instead, he finishes lamely, “Some person. At some point.”

“Yeah,” Zuko says, not meeting his eyes, “I guess that makes sense.”

“Right,” Sokka agrees, “So. You’ll still do it?”

Something seems to settle in Zuko’s expression – Sokka thinks wildly that it almost seems like defeat, but that _must_ be wrong, because a moment later, Zuko’s giving him an easy grin, and saying, “Of course I will.”

Sokka tries not to notice the way the grin doesn’t meet his eyes. At all.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um........WOW.
> 
> the response to the first chapter of this story has quite literally blown me away. i am so excited about this fic and it's been so incredibly rewarding to see such an enthusiastic response!!! i appreciate all of you more than i can say, every single comment and kudos makes me feel just as warm and fuzzy as one of zuko's smiles makes sokka feel. seriously. i adore y'all.
> 
> leave me a comment! and thank you so, so much for reading (:


	3. always waiting for you

A brief awkward silence sits between them for not even a minute – then it’s interrupted, by the door slamming back open and a familiar furious shout.

“Sokka – _please_ tell me that what Aang just told me isn’t true.”

Katara is in front of them, slamming her hands down on the table, with a slightly wild look in her eyes, before Sokka can even process the request. Aang hurries behind her, Toph on his heels.

“What?” Sokka asks, turning to Zuko to meet his surprised expression before focusing on Katara.

“Please, _tell me_ ,” Katara starts again, and her voice is trembling slightly, “That what Aang _told me_ the council said to _you_ – to both of you – is not what actually happened. Because if it is –”

Sokka fleetingly – very fleetingly – considers lying. But he figures that he’s already incredibly close to reaching his quota on dishonest behavior without inviting some sort of karmic spirit world intervention, so instead he says, “Look, I’m sure it sounded a lot worse than it actually was, coming out Aang’s mouth, but Katara –”

Whatever attempt at reassurance Sokka was going to try doesn’t make it out of his mouth, cut off completely by the angry noise that explodes out of Katara’s mouth.

Aang, thank spirits for his airbender reflexes, grabs her around the waist before she can sprint back out the door.

“Aang, _let me go_!”  
  
“What exactly are you planning on _doing_?” Sokka questions, leaping out of his seat to plant himself in front of Katara, taking her hands and halting her attempts to push Aang off of her.

“I don’t know, but I’m not going to do _nothing_ , Sokka,” Katara snaps harshly. She stops wriggling though, and she doesn’t let go of Sokka’s hands. Aang seems to sense that the danger has passed, at least momentarily, and releases her, taking a step back, still watching warily.

“Okay, well, you can’t _attack_ the elders,” Sokka says, looking around at the rest of the group frantically for backup.

“He’s right, Katara,” Toph says, “As much as I agree that they _deserve_ to have their asses beaten into the ground, it _probably_ wouldn’t be the most productive route to take.”

Katara looks livid, and someone who knew her less would have been rightfully terrified. Sokka knows her though, and he hears the desperate plea in her growl of, “Well, then what _would_ be a ‘productive route’?”

“Exactly what they said to do,” Sokka answers quickly, “They’ll – I guess, _observe_ us, that’s what they said – and we’ll prove ourselves. Right?”

Sokka directs this at Zuko, who has since stood up and is lurking behind Toph’s shoulder, frowning. Katara gives him a pleading look, like she’s hoping he’ll disagree, and instead approve of _her_ plans, which Sokka is starting to worry are verging on the edge of murderous. Instead, Zuko shakes his head slightly and says, “Yeah. Right.”

Katara groans and her shoulders slump. “Fine. _Fine_. But I swear, I _swear_ , if one of them says – I don’t know, _anything_ like that, I swear I –”

“I know,” Sokka says, squeezing her hands. “But a triple assassination would be a bad way to start off the whole ‘proving ourselves’ thing.”

“You’re probably right,” Katara admits, “But let me be clear. I’ll be observing _them_ too. And they’re on _incredibly_ thin ice.”

* * *

As it turns out, the elders “observing their relationship,” means that at least one of them will be following Sokka and Zuko around – secretly or not – almost everywhere they went, in an official capacity. And considering that ninety percent of Sokka’s day to day activities tended to fall under the mantle of “official son-of-the-chief” duties, they had needed to get very quickly used to an almost constant presence lurking in the background of every activity.

The elders _generally_ let Sokka know which one of them would be observing them on a given day, via a note to his room at near the crack of dawn (Sokka isn’t sure if this was out of pettiness, or if the elders _actually_ woke up before any normal human being was conscious).

The first instance of this is, (of course, because why _wouldn’t_ it be), the next day.

Sokka wakes up to a loud knock on his door – again – but this time it isn’t Katara. This time when Sokka pulls open his door, his half asleep, disheveled appearance is met by Councilman Sorrok’s advisor’s judgmental gaze. The advisor hands him the folded note without a word and stalks back down the hall.

“Good morning to you, too,” Sokka grumbles, pulling his door shut and opening the note. There isn’t much to it – just a short message that says that Councilman Sorrok will be the one observing him and Zuko that day, and that he shouldn’t be late to any of his meetings. Which he never _was_ , but it is just like Sorrok to preemptively critique Sokka before he had actually done anything wrong.

Sokka takes a steadying breath, dropping the note onto his desk as he passes it on his way to his closet.

This is to be expected.

Hakoda had said as much, yesterday, once they’d had time to actually talk about what _happened_ in the meeting.

Hakoda had guessed that the council might not be pleased with Sokka’s choice in partner, but he hadn’t expected the reaction to be so harsh, or for a meeting to be called immediately. A timeline for a marriage hadn’t been laid out – just the fact that one needed to happen – so, he had honestly believed that the end of Sokka’s long stretch of being single would be enough to assuage their worries, for some time.

(Though as far as an answer to _why_ Sokka had been kept in the dark about the idea of him being married off without his consent, Hakoda had nothing to say, shifting the conversation to how Sokka should move forward instead. Which is something that Sokka was trying _really_ hard not to spend too much of his time dwelling on.)

But Hakoda had said that being on his best behavior and being as polite and accommodating as possible would – _should_ – help. And Sokka figures that snapping sarcastically at one of the elders’ advisors probably wasn’t the best way to start.

So, as Sokka pulls his parka over his head, he forces himself to smile (fully aware of the fact that if anyone were there to see it, they would likely be concerned about his sanity).

Sokka’s halfway to the council chambers when he realizes that he’s not actually sure if he’s supposed to meet Councilman Sorrok there, or if he’s already going to be waiting at Sokka’s first appointment of the day – a meeting with the Northern Water Tribe Ambassador. Part of Sokka’s role is as a liaison between the council and the ambassadors stationed in the South Pole – building relationships with them, passing information back and forth, and reviewing any new proposals before they’re brought to the entire council. Every week, he makes the rounds to check in and record any grievances or suggestions.

Sokka’s not entirely sure _how_ Councilman Sorrok is going to _observe_ that, but that’s what the note had said. As far as a meeting point, or if there’s going to be one at all…Sokka reaches into his pocket and – yeah, of course he hadn’t remembered to grab the note. He groans and keeps walking, because he is _fairly_ certain there was nothing on the small piece of parchment that would answer his question about Councilman Sorrok’s whereabouts, anyways.

Sokka’s day hasn’t even properly started yet and he already feels like he’s fucked up twice. And this is all _before_ adding in the stress of keeping up the image of a fake (simultaneously deeply committed and appropriately professional) relationship with Zuko, in _front_ of the elders, and –

Oh shit.

 _Zuko_.

Sokka had forgotten to wake up Zuko.

Zuko, who Sokka assumes had _not_ been visited by Councilman Sorrok’s advisor and did not have a copy of Sokka’s schedule or –

But if Councilman Sorrok was waiting to accompany them to Sokka’s first appointment, then Sokka was already late, and wouldn’t it be worse if _neither_ of them showed up on time? That would be –

But if Zuko didn’t show at all, then _that_ would be a _really_ bad start in their attempt to show that Sokka was able to choose a loyal, reliable partner and –

“Sokka?”

Sokka stops in his tracks and looks up to find Zuko – fully dressed, his hair tied back in a low ponytail, the collar of his deep red ambassador robes peeking out from underneath Sokka’s old blue parka – leaning against one of the double doors to the council chambers. He’s watching Sokka worriedly, and Sokka becomes very aware of the fact that he must look like he’s in the middle of a mild panic attack.

“Zuko!” Sokka exclaims, managing to push _most_ of the panic out of his voice, “You got a note too?”

Zuko stares at him, puzzled. “A note?”

“From Councilman Sorrok’s advisor…?” Sokka starts to ask, trailing off awkwardly as Zuko’s expression grows even more confused. “Never mind. How did you know to meet me here?”

Zuko shrugs. “I didn’t, but you normally stop by here before going to meet with the other ambassadors which – that’s today, right? Unless you changed the schedule.”

“Right.”

Of course Zuko would know his schedule, given that he is _,_ accordingly, one of the ambassadors that Sokka meets with once a week.

“Yes,” Sokka says, then shakes his head, correcting himself, “I mean no, I didn’t change the schedule. _Yes_ , I’m going to meet with the ambassadors today. I normally meet with you first, since you live _here_ , but since you’re coming with me today…”

“We can have our meeting on our way to the Northern Embassy?” Zuko finishes, eyebrow quirked. Sokka nods in agreement – and immediately stops, noting internally how weird and overeager he must look.

“Yep. Exactly.”

Why is this so awkward?

This should not be this awkward.

It’s just _Zuko_ , who is still watching him as though he’s concerned that Sokka’s on the verge of some sort of breakdown, and there is no _cause_ for that, but nonetheless, Sokka’s hands feel sort of clammy and he’s still standing like, two feet away from Zuko for no real reason and –

Sokka’s train of thought is thankfully cut off when the door that Zuko isn’t leaning on is thrown open by Councilman Sorrok’s advisor, who gives both of them a judgmental glare.

“Shouldn’t you be on your way to meet with Ambassador Kedinuk?”

She directs the question at Sokka, but her eyes towards Zuko, the space between them that Sokka’s realizing is _noticeably_ large, and back to Sokka.

“Yes, absolutely,” Sokka answers hurriedly, striding towards Zuko and linking their arms together, ignoring the way his cheeks automatically flush at the contact with Zuko’s body heat, “We’re actually just leaving. Is Councilman Sorrok meeting us there?”

“He left ten minutes ago,” the advisor says, frowning.

“Okay, then, we should be on our way!” Sokka says, tugging Zuko forward and yelling over his shoulder, “Bye!”

As the front doors swing shut behind them, Zuko says, in a voice that sounds eerily like his uncle’s, “So. Do you have anything you’d like to meet with me about, Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe?”

Sokka gives him a gleeful look and puts on his most official-sounding voice. “No major updates on my end. What about you, Ambassador Zuko – any important Fire Nation reports that you need me to pass along to the council?”

Zuko slows their pace a bit – Sokka knows that the icy stairs make him nervous – and says nonchalantly, “Well, I heard a rumor that a Fire Nation ambassador is apparently _dating_ the son of the Chief. Did you hear anything about that?”

Sokka gasps dramatically. “This is the first that _I’m_ hearing of it. I’ll be sure to inform the council immediately.”

Zuko snorts then glances down, his eyes lingering on where his arm is tucked into Sokka’s elbow. He rolls his eyes and says, “This looks stupid.”

Sokka nearly slips on the last step, catching himself only by tightening his grip on Zuko’s arm. “What do you mean it looks stupid?”

“Who walks around like this? We look like old people,” Zuko replies, waiting for Sokka to right himself.

“ _What_?”

“We look like an elderly couple,” Zuko repeats, pulling Sokka into the main square, in the direction of the Northern Water Tribe Embassy, “I know you’ve been single for a while, _apparently_ , but –”

“Hey, I’m just trying to keep things, I don’t know _proper_ or whatever, but –” Sokka cuts him off, ready to argue, but when he turns his head to glare, Zuko has dissolved into laughter. Sokka’s anger all but vanishes. “You’re still messing with me, aren’t you?”

“It’s not fun when you point it out,” Zuko complains, still laughing, “But yes.”

“Whatever,” Sokka grumbles, feigning annoyance. If Zuko notices that Sokka’s only pretending to be irritated, he doesn’t comment on it.

It’s early still – there aren’t many people out in the square yet, but a few passing villagers give Sokka and Zuko curious, scrutinizing glances before quickly looking away when they realized that their staring hadn’t gone unnoticed. Sokka doesn’t know quite what to make it – should they _not_ act like a couple in public? Wasn’t that the entire point? Or was it only meant to be in front of the council, and in front of their friends? Or –

“Do you think we should act more – I don’t know. Less couple-y?”

Sokka meets Zuko’s questioning gaze, and Zuko tilts his head towards yet another snooping person, watching them from across the square, in response.

“No – I mean, I don’t think so,” Sokka says, stopping as they reach the entrance to the Northern Water Tribe Embassy.

It’s the largest of the two embassies in the South Pole – the Earth Kingdom’s, though shared by multiple ambassadors from different villages and cities, was much newer and hadn’t yet gone through the number of expansions that the Northern Water Tribe embassy had over the years. The Northern Water Tribe Embassy had been built first, near the beginning of the Southern Reconstruction Project. A small group of Northerners – a group that had grown larger over the past several years – had moved to the South Pole and settled in the new, growing capital city. Thus, an embassy had been built almost immediately, to house the Northern Water Tribe ambassador, but also as a cultural center for the Northern people.

The Fire Nation _didn’t_ yet have an embassy. For one thing, there wasn’t a practical reason to have an entirely separate building when Zuko was the only ambassador _from_ the Fire Nation and he lived in the main compound. Sokka knew though that the Earth Kingdom had gotten their embassy when only Ambassador Guan had been assigned, and there hadn’t been an _actual_ need to build an entire embassy. Sokka knew that the real reason the Fire Nation didn’t have an official embassy had far more to do with the fact that the idea of a permanent Fire Nation presence in the South Pole was…less than welcome and far _less_ to do with Zuko’s place of residence.

However, he mentions none of that to Zuko, who’s still watching him, waiting for him to make a clear decision about how they should act. Sokka weighs that for a moment – Ambassador Kedinuk hadn’t been outright awful during the council meeting the previous day, but he hadn’t exactly been pleasant either. But, Sokka reasons, the whole _point_ of this, the whole point of Councilman Sorrok coming to _observe_ , is for the two of them to prove themselves as a couple.

So, Sokka pulls his arm away from Zuko’s and reaches out for his hand. “You ready?”

Zuko answers by grabbing Sokka’s hand and squeezing.

Sokka exhales and pushes open the door.

And is almost immediately knocked over by a warm, solid – person?

“Sokka, it’s so good to see you!”

The person lets go of Sokka and pulls back – and Sokka grins.

“Veya, you’re back!”

Veya – one of the Northerners who’d moved to the South Pole with a larger group two years ago – is Sokka’s age and a waterbender. And, Sokka had learned a few weeks after they’d met, a friend of Yue’s. She had moved to the South Pole primarily to learn waterbending from Katara. However, her parents had stayed in the North Pole, and she’d left to visit them two months ago. Now though –

“I got back yesterday! I was going to stop by, but Ambassador Kedinuk said there was some emergency council meeting keeping you all busy yesterday, I wasn’t sure if you’d even have time to stop by today but luckily _I_ did, because he’s been stuck in a meeting all morning and his advisor asked me to just give you a scroll with all of his updates on it, and – oh! Hey, Zuko!”

Veya turns to look at Zuko, (whose hand had been knocked out of Sokka’s by the force of Veya’s hug), as though she just noticed he was standing there, and grins.

“Uh, hey,” Zuko responds slowly. Sokka frowns. Zuko and Veya are, as far as Sokka knew, friendly with each other. They didn’t like, hang out, (Zuko _mostly_ hung out with Sokka, Katara and Aang), but unless there is some secret animosity between them that no one had bothered to tell Sokka about, there is no reason for the almost _irritated_ look that Zuko is giving her.

Veya seems to notice Zuko’s weirdness and turns back to Sokka with a slightly forced smile. “So, is there anything new with you?”

Sokka pauses – over Veya’s shoulder, he spots Councilman Sorrok ( _there_ he is) and Ambassador Kedinuk coming out of the main meeting room. Their heads are close together and they seem to be in a heated argument. But waiting for them to look up would be weird and clearly staged, Sokka thinks to himself, so he takes Zuko’s hand again and says, focusing his attention back on Veya, “Well, it’s not _new_ , but it’s out in the open now – Zuko and I are dating.”

Veya’s mouth literally drops open. “You’re –” she looks back and forth between the two of them so quickly that Sokka’s worried she’s going to hurt her neck – “The two of you. You’re dating. Like, as a couple.”

“That’s what dating means,” Zuko snaps, and Sokka resists the urge to glare at him. What was his _problem_?

Fortunately, Veya doesn’t look too hurt by Zuko’s tone. Her eyes linger on their interlocked hands for a moment – a _long_ moment – before she looks back at Sokka with yet another strained smile. “That’s uh – that’s great. I didn’t know that –”

“Sokka!”

Councilman Sorrok, apparently done arguing with Ambassador Kedinuk, who is nowhere to be seen, appears at Veya’s shoulder. He’s glaring at Sokka and Zuko’s hands – Sokka and Zuko drop each other’s hands so quickly that Sokka isn’t actually sure who lets go first.

“Councilman Sorrok,” Sokka stammers, “How are you – um, good morning – how is Ambassador Kedinuk?”

Councilman Sorrok frowns, pausing as though he’s thinking very hard about something, before saying, “Ambassador Kedinuk and I had some things to discuss privately, outside of the scope of your usual liaison work. You know how Northerners are – incredibly particular.”

Veya scoffs from Councilman Sorrok’s left – a scoff which she quickly turns into a cough, when he gives her a severe look.

“Got it,” Sokka says, glancing at Zuko, whose eyes are wide and focused on Councilman Sorrok, “So, is there um – is there anything we can do for you this morning?”

“You’re _supposed_ to be here to receive any relevant information from Ambassador Kedinuk,” Councilman Sorrok says, “Not parade your – Ambassador Zuko – around.”

“Relevant information’s right here,” Veya says quickly, pushing a rolled-up scroll into Sokka’s hand.

Sokka takes it but doesn’t look at her. Instead, he scowls at Councilman Sorrok.

“ _Parade_?”

“Sokka –” Zuko warns from his side, but Sokka waves him off.

“No, I’m just confused by your wording, Councilman Sorrok,” Sokka continues, “I thought that you were supposed to be _observing_ Zuko and I as a couple. How are you supposed to do that if we don’t – using your words – parade around?”

“The council did not intend for you to make your partnership public until _after_ the observation period, keeping our observations of _that_ aspect of the partnership limited strictly to non-public interactions,” Councilman Sorrok answers, giving Veya another severe look that Sokka can tell is actually directed at him. “However, discretion is clearly no longer an option.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly _specify_ ,” Sokka retorts, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest.

“No. I suppose we didn’t feel that we needed to,” Councilman Sorrok says back, and it takes everything in Sokka not to snap.

“Well, if the catgator’s out of the bag,” Zuko says, annoyance evident in his tone as he reaches out to grab Sokka’s hand again, “Are there any _further_ instructions we should be following?”

Veya raises her eyebrows and Sokka feels a warm surge of pride in his chest as Councilman Sorrok splutters in response.

“I – no. Ambassador Zuko, you should know _exactly_ what discretion means.”

And without another word, Councilman Sorrok pushes past them and out the front door.

“Well, _that_ was a fun way to catch up on what I’ve missed while I was gone,” Veya says into the awkward silence left in his wake, “Quickest, most dramatic recap ever.”

“Sorry about that,” Sokka apologizes.

“Seriously, that was – I shouldn’t have snapped like that,” Zuko says suddenly, as though he’s only just realized. “Oh, Agni, _that_ can’t have helped at all, why did I – that was so stupid.”

“Nah,” Sokka says with a smirk, wrapping an arm around Zuko’s waist, for Veya’s benefit, “It was kind of hot, actually .”

Zuko flushes deeply. “I don’t think this is what Councilman Sorrok meant by _discreet_ , Sokka.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Sokka answers, “It’s not like Veya’s going to report back that I indecently touched your _waist_ in public.”

Veya laughs awkwardly, throwing up her hands in faux surprise. “Oh, the horror!”

The laugh that Zuko gives in response is noticeably stilted.

* * *

Sokka is having a bad day.

A bad leg day, to be specific.

It happens, more often than he cares to admit, and it almost always throws off his daily schedule. Which for Sokka, someone who lives and breathes schedules, is _annoying_ , to say the least. Sokka is starting to feel like he should be able to predict his bad leg days, with how often they crop up and fling his schedule off kilter. He _really_ should’ve seen this one coming.

Yesterday, after the first incredibly awkward meeting at the Northern Water Tribe Embassy, Sokka and Zuko had made the rounds to both of the Earth Kingdom Ambassadors that were currently stationed in the South Pole, as well as picked up letters from those who were currently back in the Earth Kingdom.

The rest of Sokka’s day had included a planned hunting trip with a party that included Hakoda and Councilman Koatas. Sokka should’ve expected that his leg would have a flare up the day after – today. This often happened, after spending an extended time on his feet and in the cold. What Sokka had _not_ expected was that Zuko would be invited to – or, forced to go on – the hunting trip.

Zuko _never_ hunted.

Ever.

Not once, since he’d moved to the Southern Water Tribe.

Whenever Sokka did go hunting, Zuko tended to hang out with Katara, or write a letter to his Uncle, or do literally anything else _besides_ go hunting. But apparently, at least in the eyes of Councilman Koatas, a hunting trip was something that Zuko, as Sokka’s boyfriend, absolutely needed to go on and be observed during. Which, considering Zuko’s status as a novice hunter –

“I’m surprised they haven’t knocked down your door and dragged me out of here, if I’m being completely honest,” Zuko comments, from where he’s leaning against the footboard of Sokka’s bed.

The side of his leg is pressed up against Sokka’s, the heat that’s radiating through his pant leg soothing the dull pain in Sokka’s calf. Sokka’s leg flare ups were disruptive and annoying and painful and just, overall sucky, but this method, which they had discovered completely on accident about a month after Zuko had moved to the South Pole, makes them a lot more bearable. Sokka had used other methods in the past to try to calm the ache that came with a bad day – hot towels, Katara’s healing – but none of those methods were even close to the soothing feeling of Zuko’s leg (or hand, or foot – it varied) against his. It’s a routine, now, one that everyone who talks to either of them on a regular basis has come to know and expect. If Sokka is having a bad leg day, then it is expected that he and Zuko would be together, doing work in one of their rooms.

“It wasn’t _that_ bad,” Sokka answers, not looking up from the trade proposal – from Chin Village – that he’s reading. _Why does that name sound so familiar?_

“Uh, yes it was,” Zuko retorts, “I fell in a _hole_ , Sokka.”

“You slipped on ice,” Sokka dismisses him with a wave of his hand, still not looking at him, “That happens. Ice is slippery. I don’t think that you being _clumsy_ is a terrible enough offense to make you irredeemable as a potential partner.”

“Sokka, the entire South Pole is covered in ice.”

“Technically, a lot of it is covered in snow.”

“ _Sokka_.”

“The fact that you don’t know the difference between ice and snow, now _that_ might be a good enough reason to deem you an unsuitable partner,” Sokka teases, dropping the proposal into his lap so that he can stroke his chin in mock contemplation.

Zuko pulls the pillow he’s leaning against from behind his back and throws it at Sokka’s head.

“ _Ow_ ,” Sokka whines, finally looking at Zuko to glare at him, “What was that for?”

“I’m being serious,” Zuko insists, “Even outside of the whole – _you know_ – that was my first hunting trip _ever_ , and my response to Koatas spotting a tiger seal was to spin around in surprise, slip, and fall into an ice fishing hole. That’s – _don’t laugh_.”

Sokka continues snickering anyways. “Well, when you lay it all out like _that_ , how am I supposed to _not_ laugh?”

“You know, it probably would have helped if you hadn’t laughed at me _then_. Not exactly supportive boyfriend behavior to giggle hysterically when your boyfriend nearly freezes to death.”

Zuko is pouting and fiddling with the end of Sokka’s blanket. Sokka can tell that it’s genuine sulking when the heat against his leg flares up.

“I’m sorry,” Sokka says, stretching his leg and nudging at Zuko’s thigh with his wool-socked toes. “I promise that I’ll act super concerned the next time you fall on your ass.”

Zuko glares. “I didn’t _fall on my ass,_ I – what do you mean _next time_?”

“I know, I know. I’m _so_ sorry, my sweet turtleduck,” Sokka sighs, grinning at the irritated, narrow-eyed glare Zuko shoots him, “I know that was incredibly traumatizing for you. I’m sorry. Can you come here and help me with this?”

Zuko grumbles in annoyance, but pushes up off the mattress anyways, relocating himself and leaning back against the pillows next Sokka. Sokka immediately notices the return of the dull throbbing – he’s grateful that it takes only a few seconds for Zuko to press a leg back against his. Zuko is tense next to him, his shoulder pressed up against Sokka’s; it’s an awkward position, forcing them to sit hip to hip as well as leg to leg, Zuko’s foot brushing Sokka’s ankle. The contact sends a shiver up Sokka's spine.

Zuko looks slightly uncomfortable. “Should I…?”

“Here,” Sokka says, scooting over a bit and pushing his leg underneath Zuko’s, so that the back of Zuko’s calf muscle rests on top of Sokka’s shin. “Try it now?”

There’s a pause, then the warmth flows back and the pain fades back to a manageable level. Sokka sighs in relief. “Mm…yep. Thank you. You’re the best.”

“You’re welcome.” Zuko wiggles a little bit, not moving his leg, but putting more space between his and Sokka’s hips. “What do you need help with?”

Sokka hands Zuko the scroll. “This is from the ambassador from Kyoshi Island, on behalf of a nearby village – Chin – which I _swear_ sounds familiar. But look at the amount of polar dog pelt they’re asking for in return for _that_ much grain.”

Zuko frowns down at the proposal. “Chin? I swear I…” he trails off, his eyes scanning down the paper. “Mayor Tong? Why does that sound so –”

Sokka cuts off the rest of Zuko’s thought and yells, “Oh! _That_ asshole!”

“You know him?” Zuko asks curiously, “Because I’m pretty sure I –”

“ _Yes_ ,” Sokka interrupts, “He tried to have Aang boiled in oil.”

Zuko stares at him in silence for a few seconds. “ _What_.”

“Long story,” Sokka says quickly, “Anyways, he’s an _idiot_ , no wonder I forgot, I tried to block that entire village out of my memory the _minute_ we left.”

“Or, you didn’t read the whole thing and see that his name is listed right here,” Zuko suggests, pointing to the bottom of the parchment.

“That _is_ a possibility,” Sokka agrees, then – “Wait, you know him?”

“I’m pretty sure someone named Tong tried to make a deal with our Earth Kingdom ambassador for an insane amount of Fire Nation produce in return for his recipe for ‘un-fried dough.’”

“Yep,” Sokka says, taking the scroll from Zuko and throwing it across the room, “Definitely the same guy.”

“Hey, don’t – you should at least _consider_ it, or bring it to the council first,” Zuko advises him.

Sokka shrugs. “Why? I trust _your_ judgment more than the council’s, and you don’t trust him, and I _definitely_ don’t trust him. Good enough for me.”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “I don’t think the council would like that you make decisions that quickly after _only_ checking with a Fire Nation ambassador.”

“I disagree,” Sokka says, bumping Zuko’s shoulder with his, “I actually wish they would observe _this_. Look how well we work together, _plus_ you let me use you as human heater? This is like, prime perfect partner stuff here.”

Zuko’s cheeks go pink and Sokka feels the heat against his leg flare again. He feels slightly flustered for a moment and is about to ask if he said something wrong, when Zuko says, “It’s not like this is anything new, though. We do this all the time.”

And, Sokka admits, that’s a fair point. They do this a lot – _always_ , actually. Since the first time Zuko had offered to see if his fire bending could help Sokka’s leg, he had never said no when Sokka asked him to spend the day in bed with him. He was always there, always offered to retrieve any materials Sokka needed to be able to work from his room, always _stayed_ , so that Sokka wouldn’t get bored on his own. Zuko was always there to offer advice, to pull Sokka away when he got too overworked. Sokka doesn’t say it out loud, but he acknowledges quietly to himself that he doesn’t _really_ want the council to observe this tiny, private section of his and Zuko’s lives. Sokka wants to keep it all to himself.

Out loud, Sokka says, with an over exaggerated laugh and a playful shove to Zuko’s shoulder, “You’re right. I don’t want Sorrok in my room, anyways.”

Zuko just rolls his eyes.

* * *

_This_ is one of Sokka’s favorite parts about being considered an Important Official Leader of the Southern Water Tribe by the rest of the residents thereof.

The _this_ in question being the fact that all of the younger kids of the Southern Water Tribe view him as the coolest person on earth (okay – _one_ of the coolest people on earth. Katara, the twenty-year-old master waterbender, definitely has _some_ cool points in their eyes). Katara’s inherent coolness notwithstanding, there wasn’t a group of kids who lived in the South Pole that were capable of _not_ inviting Sokka to join in on a snowball fight when one was happening. And if Sokka _knew_ that such a fight was going to be occurring on his afternoon off, just at the moment that he guided his friends, sister, and fake boyfriend past an open space in the village in which such fights often occurred, then that was _entirely_ Sokka’s business.

“I want no part of this,” Toph groans when Sokka tells the boy that’s just run up to him that _yes_ , _of_ _course_ he and his friends want to play with them, “It’s not fair, I can’t see properly with these stupid shoes, in this stupid _shit_!” She gestures down angrily at the stupid shit – or, snow – underneath her traitorous, fuzzy boots.

“Toph, watch your mouth!” Katara scolds, as a few of the nearby children giggle, “ _There are children_.”

“Fine, fine, _whatever_ – I can’t see in this stupid _stuff_. Better?”

“Not really, but –”

“I want Sokka on my team!”

Sokka glances down at the girl who’s tugging excitedly on his coat. He turns to the rest of the group and grins. “Well, I’m claimed. The rest of you have to figure out teams for yourselves.”

Sokka lets himself be tugged away, leaving Katara and Toph mid-argument. He watches as Aang, Ty Lee and Suki are approached by a few other curious kids and Zuko, still standing next to Katara and – watching him, curiously.

Sokka waves him over, grinning to himself when he follows quickly.

“Can Zuko be on our team too?” Sokka asks the girl who’s pulling him towards the rest of her gathered team.

She stops and looks up at Zuko, who’s grabbed Sokka’s free hand, and gives him a curious look. “Is he good at snowball fights?”

“That’s a valid question, Zuko,” Sokka says, shooting him a contemplative look, “ _Are_ you?”

“I promise, I’ll put everything I have into this fight,” he says seriously, bending down to meet her eye level.

She nods back at him, just as seriously, reaching out her hand to shake his. “Okay. Fine.”

Despite the fact that Zuko had let go of his hand when he bent down, Sokka feels hot all over.

Zuko sticks to his word – he and Sokka help the gathered group of children strategize, building up small snow barriers and instructing them to avoid aiming for Toph or Ty Lee, who are notorious for being _merciless_ in snowball fights (despite Toph’s claim to hate them). When Zuko reaches out his hand to help Sokka stand before going to position themselves at their designated snow barrier, Sokka grins, entirely prepared for a long, exhilarating fight.

That is, until Zuko steps _not_ onto what looks like normal snow, but onto a hidden patch of ice, and slips, grabbing Sokka by the collar and pulling him down with him. Zuko lands heavily on top of Sokka, knocking the breath out of him.

Have Zuko’s eyelashes always been this long?

That’s the first thought that runs through Sokka’s mind, once it starts working again – quickly followed by _fuck_ , _it’s cold_ , and _thank_ _spirits Zuko’s so warm_ , and _fuck, he’s really heavy, though_.

But seriously – his eyelashes. From where they’re framing one of Zuko’s wide, rapidly blinking amber eyes, how _long_ and _delicate_ they are is almost disorienting. Sokka finds himself in a slight daze, watching the fluttering movements.

“ _Sokka_.”

And back to reality.

Zuko’s voice – whispered, urgent – jars him out of his trance, and Sokka is suddenly hyperaware of the other sensations of the moment. Cold snow seeping through his coat and soaking the fabric. Zuko’s chest pressed against his. One of Zuko’s arms braced in the snow, next to Sokka’s head – the other still fisted into the fabric just below the collar of Sokka’s coat. The slight tickle of a loose strand of Zuko’s hair, fallen out of his braid, dangling down and brushing against Sokka’s cheek, quivering in the cold breeze.

Zuko’s breath – as he repeats his name again, more urgently, “ _Sokka_ ,” – warm against his face.

“Zuko,” Sokka whispers back, just to prove that he can, and that Zuko hasn’t broken his voice box.

“Let me –” Zuko starts to say, pushing his hand into the snow as though to stand up, but he goes quiet when Sokka grabs at the back of his coat and pulls him back down. A little too aggressively, Sokka realizes, because Zuko lets out an _oof_ of surprise.

“Not yet,” Sokka murmurs, and Zuko stares at him, bewildered.

“ _What?_ ”

“I’m just – I’m thinking,” Sokka says quietly, “If I was your boyfriend, I’d totally kiss you right now.”

“Oh.”

Zuko doesn’t say anything else, and Sokka can almost feel the clock ticking, in time with the feeling of Zuko’s heartbeat against his chest, counting down the moment until this gets _weird_ , and he starts to panic.

“ _Oh_?”

“I mean,” Zuko whispers quickly, “If you think that’s – if that makes sense.”

“It makes sense,” Sokka echoes, fixing his eyes on Zuko’s lips. He’s biting the bottom one nervously, his cheeks wind-bitten pink.

“Okay,” Zuko says, and before Sokka can think of a response, or anything, really, other than _fuck_ , Zuko squeezes his eyes shut, forehead furrowed like he’s concentrating _hard_ , and closes the space between them.

Sokka had never wondered, before this moment, whether or not Zuko’s inner heat was something that spread across every inch of his body. If he had though, his question would have been answered the moment Zuko’s lips met his. His lips are soft against Sokka’s, careful, and almost annoyingly restrained. Nonetheless, warmth spreads throughout Sokka’s body at every point of contact – their lips, the top of Zuko’s knuckles just barely brushing the small amount of Sokka’s neck that’s exposed to the cold – and, without really thinking about it, he moves the hand that isn’t fisted in the fabric of Zuko’s coat to touch his cheek – it’s _hot_ , almost smoldering, but Sokka doesn’t pull back. Sokka tilts his head instinctively, and –

Zuko rolls off of him, into the snow.

There’s silence for a moment, then Zuko whispers, “Was that good?”

Sokka feels his face heat up. “ _What_?”

Zuko pushes himself up into a sitting position, offering Sokka his hand and looking around at where the snowball fight has started without them. He clarifies in a whisper, though Sokka doesn’t think _that's_ entirely necessary, “Was that _believable_?”

“Yeah,” Sokka says in a voice far higher than normal, letting Zuko _carefully_ pull them both to their feet. “I think – yeah.” As soon as they’re both on steady ground, he drops Zuko’s hand.

Sokka’s face is flushed – he _knows_ that, he can feel it, and there’s nothing to blame it on – Zuko isn’t touching him anymore, there’s absolutely no reason for him to _still_ feel overheated, no reason for his cheeks to be absolutely _burning_ , and he knows that Zuko must be able to tell, because he’s giving him a curious, confused look, and –

_SPLAT._

A large clump of snow – made of _at least_ thirty percent ice, what the _fuck_ – hits Sokka hard, right in the back of the head.

“ _Ow!_ ”

“Gotta keep your eyes on the prize, Snoozles!” Toph yells over her shoulder as she runs by them, laughing hysterically.

The snow starts to melt, dripping down the back of his neck, and Sokka puts on an angry face. He bends down to form his retaliation snowball, shouting, “You’ll pay for that!” and chasing after her.

But, if Sokka is entirely honest with himself? He’s _never_ been more grateful for a spontaneous ice bath.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello breakable heaven nation! guess how _i_ spent my election night? refusing to look at the poll results (i am a worse liar than sokka, i was checking every 10 minutes) and distracting myself by finishing this chapter instead! 
> 
> i love you all. i hope this update can bring you some happiness during this....time in the world. see you in chapter 4! 
> 
> leave comments!


	4. in the quiet of the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone just here to link some breakable heaven fan art because _that's_ a thing that exists 
> 
> [sokka and zuko on a totally platonic canoe (friend) date (for bros)](https://hi-raethia.tumblr.com/post/632786963038175232/the-universe-was-made-just-to-be-seen-by-my-eyes)  
> [zuko across the campfire in chapter 1](https://lesbian-yue.tumblr.com/post/632621291898290176/no-thoughts-just-ambassador-zuko-hopelessly-in)  
> [the chapter 3!!! kiss!!!!](https://ohmyzukka.tumblr.com/post/634422622997889024/im-just-im-thinking-sokka-says-quietly-if)
> 
> kai, karson, beck. thank you so much. i love you all. with my whole heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: alcohol

Sokka isn’t an idiot.

Seriously. He _isn’t_. 

Just because it took him a little bit longer than it took for the rest of his friends to figure out _their_ sexualities, (and considering how well it’s going over so far, he’s not exactly bothered by the fact that he didn’t figure this out when he was seventeen and would have had a far more difficult time defending himself), that doesn’t mean that Sokka is an idiot. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t _get_ it. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know the logical conclusion that he should draw – that he _is_ drawing – based on his reaction to the kiss.

The kiss.

 _Zuko_. Kissing _him_.

Sokka isn’t stupid, okay?

Sokka knows what it means – the fact that he was entirely unable to focus on the snowball fight because he kept trying to catch sight of Zuko through the falling flurry; the fact that every time he _did_ meet Zuko’s eyes, from however far away, an indescribably fuzzy feeling surged up in his stomach; the fact that when Sokka fell again, on account of his own clumsiness this time, and Zuko stretched out a hand to help him up, Sokka had _seriously_ considered not taking it in fear that contact with Zuko’s hand would bring back _all_ of the emotions that he had been so, _so_ desperately trying to crush down since the moment Zuko’s lips had left his.

(Alas, laying in the snow for the rest of eternity and simply _dying_ there was not actually a viable option, so Sokka had let Zuko grab his hand and hoped, begged, _prayed_ to any spirit that was perhaps passing by, that the abrupt uptick of his heart rate, pounding ten times faster than usual, wasn’t something that Zuko could feel through the layers of fabric between them.)

So, yeah.

Sokka gets it.

He’s just not exactly sure what he’s supposed to do with this information.

Sokka is the type of person who needs to talk things out – to lay out a game plan, explain all of the important points, to get feedback and advice and _opinions_ (whether or not he listens to those opinions is an entirely separate story).

But this isn’t exactly something he can talk about with, well anyone, given the fact that every single one of his friends, Katara, and his dad (not that he would bring this up to Hakoda – but still, it wasn’t even theoretically an option) all think that he figured this out for himself at _least_ six months ago.

What is he supposed to do? Go up to Katara and say –

“Hey Katara, so I think I might be attracted to Zuko. Yeah – my boyfriend Zuko, who I’ve been dating for six months. We kissed for the first time yesterday and now I’m pretty sure I might be into him.”

No. _That_ wouldn’t work.

Sokka’s not even sure what it is that he _wants_ to talk about. That he finds Zuko attractive?

Of course Sokka knows that Zuko is attractive. Everyone knows that. It’s like. An objective fact.

Sokka had known that before they started this fake relationship - had known it before Zuko had become an ambassador, even. It hadn’t - it hadn’t bothered him until now - or not _bothered_ per say, but -

Okay.

The fact that Zuko is attractive is a fact that Sokka knows and has known, for some time, to be objectively, factually true. 

The fact - and it is definitely a fact, not an opinion or a theory or a personal preference - that Zuko is a good _kisser_ , well. That is also something that Sokka knows, however it is fairly new information, and if someone had asked Sokka a few weeks before –

“Hey, do you think Zuko’s a good kisser?”

– he would have laughed it off, shrugged, and said, “How would I know, and why would I care? It’s not like _I’m_ gonna be kissing him.”

Well, Sokka knows. 

And he _definitely_ cares. Way too much.

And he can’t stop thinking about the next time - and there’s _going_ to be a next time, because there _has_ to be a next time, because they’re wrapped up in this stupid web that Sokka has spun them into - that they kiss. 

And that’s bad. Really, really bad.

Because Zuko is his best friend, and Sokka has asked a lot of him - namely, _recently_ , to pretend to date him under incredibly high-pressure circumstances - and to ask him to put up with this would just. It would be too much.

Zuko is his best friend, but it isn’t his responsibility to let Sokka project whatever internal sexuality crisis he’s having onto him, just because he _happens_ to be the first guy that Sokka’s ever kissed.

(Just because there’s a tiny voice in the back of Sokka’s head that’s not so kindly shouting at him that it doesn’t have any interest in kissing any other guy.)

That doesn’t matter, because Zuko is his _best friend_ , and this is way too much to put on him, even though Zuko’s the only person Sokka could possibly think of _to_ talk to about this, the only person who knows that Sokka’s revelation about his sexuality is something that happened five days ago, and not over half a year ago.

But _that_ isn’t exactly an option.

What would he even say?

“Uh, hey Zuko, so I know that this is kind of weird to bring up, but like, as you know, I figured out that I wasn’t straight _very_ recently, and the reason I figured that out is because I was reflecting back on the fact that I’ve found _you_ attractive before, but then we kissed or – you kissed me – and now I think that I’m actually, really, _super_ attracted to you and I can’t stop thinking about kissing you again and maybe doing more than that, and if I start to think about it for too long I get really sweaty and also, it’s kind of difficult to look you directly in the eyes right now, so, as someone who’s been out as gay for a while now – do you have any advice on how I should deal with this?”

Yeah.

No.

Sokka watches his reflection as he literally shudders at the thought.

He’s standing in front of his mirror now, trying to calm himself at the prospect of the rest of the evening. It’s Suki’s birthday, and she has requested what _she_ claimed was a very simple night – penguin sledding (because she’d “never done it before!” and “Aang _always_ talks it up,”) and drinking, back in Katara’s room.

Sokka isn’t opposed to the second part of the itinerary – he _hadn’t_ been opposed to the first either. Penguin sledding had been, in his mind, a perfectly acceptable activity for his current mental state – it was fun and adrenaline pumping, which meant that it would take his mind entirely off of anything besides the wind rushing through _his_ hair (not the softness of someone _else_ ’s). It also helped that it was an activity that required each person to have their own, _separate_ penguin. Physical distance between Sokka and Zuko was a necessity of the activity in question, a necessity which Sokka was incredibly grateful for, even though he, for the sake of the group, had pretended that it was incredibly annoying.

All had been well and good, until _his_ penguin, traitorous little gremlin that it was, had decided halfway down the hill they were all sledding on that actually, it didn’t _want_ Sokka on its back, and had promptly flung him off and into the snow. Thankfully, Aang had quick enough reflexes to airbend Sokka gracefully to the foot of the hill before he could tumble headfirst down it, but that hadn’t saved Sokka’s pride from going unbruised. At all.

And if Zuko and Katara laughing hysterically together had been _technically_ totally fair, considering how Sokka had laughed at Zuko just a few days previously, Sokka had _not_ given them any indication that he recognized that, choosing instead to pout the entire walk back (even with Zuko tightly holding his hand).

The pouting had been a perfect excuse though, for Sokka to excuse himself to his room to “freshen up” before they all congregated back in Katara’s room. Not that he had _needed_ an excuse, necessarily, because though Aang’s rescue had been gentle, it had also been sudden, and far more snow than was tolerable, in its now melted state, had found its way up the back of Sokka’s pants.

Even so, Sokka _could_ have dealt with that – but then Zuko, when Sokka had dropped his hand and moved to head towards his own room, in the opposite direction of Katara’s, had leaned towards Sokka’s face with a soft look in his eyes and Sokka had panicked and grabbed Zuko’s arm in alarm – just for Zuko to kiss him innocently on the cheek. Which was absolutely no reason to panic. Nor, Sokka had realized as he let go of Zuko’s arm and scrambled away, was a _regular_ kiss, from his boyfriend.

So. Sokka had definitely needed a moment to collect himself, for a few reasons.

The prospect of being around Zuko with the combination of the effect of whatever kind of alcohol Suki had brought with her from Kyoshi Island is _unnerving_ to say the very least, but it isn’t like Sokka can just ditch the group and go to sleep. First of all, Suki will kill him, and second of all, he has no good excuse besides the penguin sledding incident, which is _not_ a good excuse and _is_ an excuse that will absolutely be used to ridicule him for the foreseeable future _regardless_ , let _alone_ if Sokka, who was very clearly uninjured, acts like such a baby about it that he claims he has to go to bed early. So, no. Sokka is going to have to suck it up.

And it’s not like he doesn’t _want_ to hang out with the rest of the group. He does.

This week of being followed around and observed and constantly under pressure to act convincingly in love with Zuko while also acting _exactly_ right and appropriate for someone who was destined to, someday, be chief had been – well it had been _a lot_ of pressure. Sokka seriously has been sincerely looking forward to spending time _just_ with his friends, with no one looking over his shoulder.

Not that there isn’t going to be an aspect of performance required for tonight – the _convincingly in love_ bit is still something that Sokka _needs_ to pull off.

It’s just that it’s a little bit different now.

It’s just that –

The _idea_ of being close to Zuko – because that is inevitable, because anything other than closeness would be immediately and incredibly _noticeable_ to the rest of the group – has Sokka’s nerves within an inch of frying.

At the same time though, Sokka is deeply, _deeply_ , excited about the idea of being close to Zuko.

And that’s almost worse.

But again, Sokka doesn’t really have a choice.

So, he gives himself a once over in the mirror, pulling a hand through his hair – let loose from its usual wolftail to dry from its encounter with the snowy hill – and smiling at himself.

It will be fine. It’s _Suki’s_ birthday anyways, so the focus will probably be almost entirely on her, and all Sokka will really need to do is keep up the usual (and he almost laughs at that, because none of this is _usual_ ) fake relationship pretenses (while trying to suppress the very real feelings bubbling below), as to not raise the suspicions of any of the gathered group.

Easy.

It will be _fine_.

That is what Sokka continuously tells himself, as he pulls his door shut behind him and walks down the darkened hall to Katara’s room.

That is what he repeats, saying the words quietly, under his breath, as he pushes the door open.

That is what he immediately forgets, when he spots Zuko, sitting on the floor in front of Katara, half in her lap, as she braids his hair down his back, his eyes crinkled, laughing at something Katara’s saying. The light from the fire roaring in the hearth is reflecting warmly against Zuko’s cheek, and his eyes almost glow – from excitement? from the light? – when he turns, flashing a grin towards Sokka as Katara’s door swings shut behind him.

And _this_ is when Sokka’s brain gets in very a heated argument with his heart.

He feels almost frozen to the spot – he _knows_ , intuitively, that he must look stupid, just _standing_ there like an idiot, and that he needs to do something, fast.

But Sokka’s heart is unable to tear its eyes away from Zuko’s smile, from the way he’s looking at Sokka curiously, like he’s watching a play unfold before him and trying to guess where the plot will go next.

And Sokka’s _brain_ is telling him to stop _that_ thought in its tracks, because he needs to act like he _fake_ loves Zuko, not like he’s teetering on the edge of _liking_ Zuko and walking along that knife’s edge is difficult enough without his thoughts trying to wander down a path that’s coming dangerously close to pining.

But then, the little voice in the back of Sokka’s head – the one from earlier, that really wants to kiss Zuko in like, an exclusive, romantic nature – reminds his heart and the rest of his brain that actually, kissing Zuko would be a perfectly natural next step for Sokka – Zuko’s _boyfriend_ Sokka – to take if he (boyfriend Sokka, that is) saw Zuko bathed in firelight and – theoretically, of course – thought that he looked otherworldly beautiful.

That would be _normal_. Expected, even.

So.

Acknowledging the fact that he’s been standing just past Katara’s doorway for far too long to be socially acceptable, Sokka strides forward, plops himself down into Zuko’s lap and kisses him square on the mouth.

Sokka hears Ty Lee and Suki’s alarmed yelps, hears Toph start laughing, hears Katara groan as the sudden pressure of his and Zuko’s combined weight, but the only things that Sokka is actually _aware_ of are the following: the surprised noise that Zuko makes against his lips, the way that one of his hands flies up to clutch at the back of Sokka’s tunic, almost instantly, and the fact that, after his moment of surprise, Zuko starts kissing back far more enthusiastically than he had in the snow.

Sokka isn’t allowed to _dwell_ on any of that, though, because Katara’s groan is replaced by a loud whine of, “ _Ew_ , Sokka, _stop_!”

Sokka pulls away from Zuko’s face – Zuko’s _incredibly_ startled face – and leans to the side, keeping his hands where they are, resting on Zuko’s waist, as he makes eye contact with Katara.

“I’ll stop when _you_ stop trying to steal my boyfriend.”

Katara snorts, then shoves Zuko hard in the back, knocking Sokka off his lap and onto the ground, flat on his back. Zuko manages to land more gracefully, on his ass.

“I’m not trying to _steal your boyfriend_ , you idiot,” Katara snaps, “I’m just _braiding his hair._ I have my own boyfriend.”

“Yep, right here,” Aang chimes in, smiling down at Sokka.

“Whatever,” Sokka says, sitting up and stretching his arms back to brush the dust off his back.

“So, _anyways_ ,” Suki says loudly, startling Sokka into turning around and meeting her gaze, “Now that Sokka’s done making a dramatic entrance that makes _my_ birthday about _his_ clingy behavior…”

“Sorry, Sooks,” Sokka apologizes, settling himself down onto the cushion that’s waiting for him next to Zuko.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Suki shrugs, “Do you want a drink?”

Sokka turns his head to meet Zuko’s gaze, for just a second – it’s heated and almost concerned – and finds himself feeling slightly disoriented.

“Yes, please.”

As Suki reaches behind her to grab at the bottle that Sokka assumes contains the contents of the clay cups that everyone else is already holding, he takes a moment to actually observe his surroundings. Suki and Ty Lee have cushions squished closely together and are holding hands, despite Suki being mid-pour. Aang and Katara are now, without the presence of Zuko and Sokka squashing Katara, in a similar position, Katara leaning against Aang’s shoulder. Toph is sprawled out on her stomach on Katara’s bed, her chin resting on one arm, the other stuck out over the edge, her cup hanging precariously in her hand.

Zuko seems to realize at the same moment Sokka does that their current position – sitting a few inches apart on separate cushions – isn’t exactly in line with the rest of the coupled-up members of the group. Before Sokka can think of a way to remedy that, Zuko slings an arm around his waist, tugging him closer.

Sokka doesn’t have time to react to that, other than to inhale sharply, because Suki’s leaning across the sort of half circle and handing him his own cup of unidentified brown liquid. He takes a sip and feels warmth spread in his chest – it matches the warmth that’s already radiating from the spot where Zuko’s hand rests against his hip. He takes another, longer swallow.

“I’d like to make a toast,” Suki announces, once she’s settled back in her place next to Ty Lee, one of her arms thrown around her shoulder.

Toph sits up just enough to extend her cup outwards. “Hear, hear!” 

“Thank you, Toph,” Suki says, acknowledging her with a slight nod, “And thank you to all of you, for indulging me and my desire for penguin sledding tonight.”

“As I said earlier, you literally _never_ have to ask,” Aang says.

Suki grins. “And I am very grateful for that, especially since I know Sokka is _never_ going to come with me again.”

“Oh, _shut up_ ,” Sokka complains over everyone’s laughter – well, everyone but Zuko.

“Yeah, shut up, Suki,” Zuko says, “That could have happened to any of us.”

“Aw, it’s so sweet how you two defend each other,” Ty Lee coos from Suki’s left.

Suki, to Sokka’s surprise, nods in agreement. “You’re right, babe,” she says, pecking Ty Lee’s cheek before looking seriously at Sokka, raising her cup into the air, “My most important toast of the night is to Sokka, who has reminded me that I should be endlessly grateful for the fact that _my_ twenty-first birthday is not the center of a massive political debate.”

“Hear, hear,” Zuko mutters as the rest of the group mimics Suki’s movement and drinks.

“Hilarious,” Sokka says under his breath, quiet enough that only Zuko hears him.

Zuko snorts, a grin on his face, but he turns his head and presses his mouth softly to Sokka’s hair. 

Sokka wonders if it’s possible to have a heart attack and die at the age of twenty.

“You need to relax,” Zuko murmurs as he pulls back, just a little, his breath tickling the sensitive skin behind Sokka’s ear, “I can _feel_ how stiffly you’re sitting.” 

Sokka isn’t exactly sure how he’s meant to relax after _that_ , but Zuko’s boyfriend Sokka would definitely be able to handle a kiss to his hair without having a complete fit, so Sokka drops his tense shoulders and leans into Zuko’s side. He doesn’t look over at him though – Sokka seriously doubts his ability to maintain his miraculously rediscovered composure if he does.

Luckily, Sokka is saved by Ty Lee.

“Okay, we have waited _long_ enough,” she exclaims from under Suki’s arm, flourishing her cup dramatically, “Give us the _details_.”

Okay. Not saved. Ambushed. Still better than making eye contact with Zuko, though.

“What are you talking about?” Sokka asks, hoping that somehow, it's not exactly what he assumes.

Ty Lee groans. “The details. Of you two! How did you get together? When was your first kiss? Who told who they liked each other first? When did –”

“Take a breath, Bubbles,” Toph suggests.

“Thank you, Toph,” Ty Lee says warmly, inhaling and exhaling measuredly. Once she deems herself calm enough, she focuses an almost terrifying gaze on Sokka. “Sokka – when did _you_ first realize that you liked Zuko?”

Sokka feels his face go red and hopes it isn’t noticeable. Suki’s snort confirms that it is.

“I, um –” he stutters, internally smacking himself in the face. They were five days into this and he _still_ hasn’t taken the time to come up with a fake answer to this question which is, well, fairly stupid on his part, but it’s not like he can deflect the question to Zuko – Zuko, who probably has a _perfectly_ prepared answer, all ready to go – so he searches his brain for something that could _sort_ of make sense and – _yes._ Okay. This could work.

“Well?” Ty Lee questions him, and this time Sokka’s ready, even with everyone (well, everyone but Toph) watching him expectantly.

Just for the show of it, Sokka reaches his arm backwards to lace his fingers together with Zuko’s hand – the one’s that’s sitting at his hip. It’s awkward, and a little obnoxious, but it feels right. Then, grinning at Ty Lee’s quirked eyebrow, he launches into his story.

“It was actually just after Zuko first got here,” Sokka begins, squeezing Zuko’s hand for good measure, “In one of his first council meetings as ambassador.”

Sokka feels Zuko’s posture tense – and he’s not entirely sure why. Does Zuko not know where he’s going with this? Does it conflict with whatever story he’s made up in _his_ head? Well – whatever. It’s not like he’d made time to strategize with Sokka, so he’s on his own.

“There was an argument – between my dad and Councilman Vinoq – about some sort of trade disagreement with Ba Sing Se – and this was when their ambassador was away, so we couldn’t talk to him _directly_ about anything, and Vinoq was asserting himself as like, an authority on all things Ba Sing Se.”

Sokka glances over to look at Zuko. He’s watching him curiously, which is _weird_ , because Zuko must know where this story is going – the story itself isn’t fake, Sokka’s just altering the implications behind it, slightly. For the group.

“Anyways,” Sokka continues, tearing his eyes away from Zuko, “ _I_ brought up the fact that Zuko _lived_ in Ba Sing Se as like, a literal citizen, and that he would have way more knowledge about it than any of us would –”

“I imagine that went over well,” Suki says, earning snorts from Toph and Katara.

“Oh yeah, Vinoq _loved_ that,” Sokka replies sarcastically, “He loved it so much that he started off on some rant about how I was ‘a traitor to tribe and a Fire Nation spy,’ and he wished ‘that Chief Hakoda had never had children so that _he’d_ be next in line for chief, if _this_ was the kind of traitorous, dishonorable leadership I would bring to the role,’ or whatever, and I was all ready to argue – when Zuko stepped in.”

“It wasn’t _that_ big of a deal,” Zuko mutters from his side, and when Sokka turns to look at him, his cheeks are pink.

“Clearly it was, if this was Sokka’s big _I like Zuko_ moment,” Toph comments. Zuko glares pointlessly in her direction.

“It _was_ a big deal,” Sokka argues, making eye contact with Zuko, “Because it was like, literally your first week here, and we all knew it would be – well, a difficult adjustment – but we hadn’t expected them to attack you outright like that. But they did, and I was ready to defend you and myself, but you interrupted and just –” Sokka pauses for a moment, because Zuko looks genuinely flustered, but he’s already started this story and it’s too late to choose another one, so he turns back to the rest of the group, focusing on Ty Lee and continuing, “– he just started talking about how Vinoq and the rest of the council were being, in his words, complete imbeciles for not trusting my judgment, and that they had no idea how brave and smart and loyal to the Southern Water Tribe I was, and that I was a hero and they should be so lucky that I’d decided to dedicate my time _to_ the tribe, when I could be trying anything else, anywhere in the world, because, um –”

Sokka stops. He turns to Zuko again, and the look on Zuko’s face confirms to Sokka that their cheeks are now equal shades of pink.

“Because you’re _that_ special, and the fact that they didn’t understand that was absurd,” Zuko finishes, looking away from Sokka and at the rest of the group. “That’s um. That’s what I said.”

The group seems stunned into silence for a moment, then Ty Lee exclaims, “Aw!”

Her excitement revives the rest of them.

“That’s really sweet, actually,” Katara says appreciatively, “I remember you telling me about that, Sokka, but I didn’t know – well, of course I didn’t _know_ – but I should’ve guessed, from the way you told the story.”

“How did he tell it?” Suki asks, her expression suddenly wicked.

“Oh, you know,” Katara says with a grin, “All _dramatic_ and over-exaggerated, you know how he gets when he’s excited – spirits, how did _none of us_ realize?”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Sokka groans, letting go of Zuko’s hand so that he can shove his face into both of his own.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Sokka, that’s really cute!” Ty Lee gushes. Sokka looks up to give her a pained smile, but she’s already turned her gaze away from him, focusing now on Zuko. “What about you, huh?”

“Oh come on, was that not enough?” Sokka complains.

Suki shushes him.

“No. It’s _my_ birthday and I want to hear _both_ sides of the story. You can’t say no to me.”

“But –”

“It’s fine, Sokka,” Zuko says flatly, squeezing at his hip.

That successfully shuts Sokka up.

“Thank you, Zuko,” Suki says with a grin, “Now tell us – what made you realize that you liked Sokka?”

“It was um – it was before I officially became an ambassador, actually,” Zuko says, and it’s _annoying_ how effortlessly he launches into it – even his _um_ seems calculated, like he’s been waiting to tell this perfectly crafted story since the bonfire, “You know, before last year, it’d been awhile since we were all in the same place.”

“Not awhile,” Sokka objects, “ _Two years_.”

Zuko glares at Sokka out of the corner of his eye. “Is that not awhile?”

“I – yeah, I guess _technically,_ I’m just saying, I would classify that as longer than _awhile,_ awhile sounds like, I don’t know, shorter than that –”

“Sokka, shut up,” Katara snaps, “You already had your turn.”

Sokka grumbles but goes quiet.

“Go on, Zuko,” Suki says, taking a sip of her drink, which reminds Sokka of his. He’s taking a long gulp when Zuko continues, saying –

“Well, it wasn’t just _one_ moment, you know? Since we were all in different places, Sokka and I wrote each other a lot of letters during those two years and I’m not exactly sure _when_ it happened – it must’ve been some time during that – because when my uncle asked me if I wanted to be an ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe it was like –”

Zuko pauses, glancing over at Sokka for a moment, and the look in his eyes is so – Sokka can’t think of a word other than _tender_ – that it sends a shiver down his spine.

“It was like what?” Ty Lee asks, her voice hushed in anticipation.

“It was like,” Zuko says slowly, turning to look at her before finishing, “It wasn’t even a question. _Of course_ I wanted to come to the South Pole, because that’s where Sokka was. And it just – it all kind of hit me, then.”

Zuko looks down at his lap, (nice touch), and Sokka has to resist shaking his head to pull himself out of the dreamy haze Zuko’s story has cast over him. It had felt so…real. Zuko is _really_ good at this. Unfairly good, because everyone else – even _Toph_ – seems just as dazed as Sokka.

“ _Wow_ ,” Aang says, smiling widely, “That’s like, _fate_ , isn’t it?”

Zuko shrugs. “Not really. I mean, who else was he going to send down here, Azula?”

“Spirits, _no_ ,” Katara groans, and the rest of the group – besides Sokka and Zuko – laugh.

“Hey, she’s not _that_ bad,” Zuko argues, and Katara reaches out to grab his cheek playfully.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine, but we obviously prefer _you_ , dumbass.”

* * *

By the time Katara finally kicks all of them out of her room – though, _Aang_ stays behind, which, _ew_ – Sokka is significantly more relaxed. If that’s almost entirely because of Suki’s _wonderful_ birthday alcohol, then so be it. He’s so relaxed that he’s leaning heavily into Zuko’s side, arm wrapped tightly around his waist. It’s nice. He’s so _warm_ , and Sokka is _very_ sleepy. It’s like hugging his bed, if his bed was a person who also smelled good and kissed Sokka’s hair.

Ty Lee and Suki are leading the group, skipping down the hall with their arms linked at the elbow – _see Zuko, other couples do that,_ Sokka thinks, but doesn’t say – and Toph is following behind Zuko and Sokka, humming absentmindedly to herself.

When they get to Sokka’s door, he begrudgingly disentangles himself from Zuko. “Goodnight,” he says, yawning as he waves at their retreating backs, “See you all in the –”

Suki stops, bringing Ty Lee to a halt with her. Zuko's reflexes are too slow, and he slams into them. Suki seems unperturbed by that, turning to look at Sokka and snort. Loudly.

Sokka frowns at her, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“I mean,” Suki says, now giggling, “Come _on_ , Sokka.”

Zuko looks just as confused, glancing at Suki and Ty Lee, who are both giggling now and exchanging mischievous glances. “What in Agni’s name is wrong with you two?”

“We both know Zuko’s just gonna sneak back here as soon as we’re all in _our_ rooms,” Ty Lee says, a smug grin on her face.

Sokka is thankful that the halls are fairly dark, because the way he flushes then – embarrassment combined with the alcohol in his system – is so sudden that if he was a firebender, he surely would’ve burst into flames.

“No he’s –” Sokka starts to argue, but Suki interrupts him.

“Do you think we’re stupid? Just go to bed. Save yourself the walk, Zuko.”

“I –” Zuko tries to say, but Toph cuts him off.

“It’s a fair point, Sparky,” she says with a grin, “You might as well not make _two_ trips down the hall tonight.”

Zuko looks very close to snapping – and Sokka is worried that he might, and completely blow the whole thing – but then he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and exhales loudly.

“Okay. Whatever. You caught us.”

Ty Lee and Suki laugh loudly, and Toph’s eyes widen.

“ _Knew it_ ,” Suki teases.

“You did not,” Ty Lee scoffs, “But you _were_ right about that being a really good way to confirm if they _were_ sharing a bed.”

“ _Suki_!” Sokka whines, “What the fu _-_ ”

“Sorry, can’t hear you!” Suki shouts over her shoulder, tugging Ty Lee down the hall, “Goodnight!”

Toph stays for a moment, her mouth twisted as though she’s pondering something. After a few seconds though, she turns to follow Suki and Ty Lee, saying, “See you two lovebirds in the morning!”

Zuko and Sokka stand there quietly, staring at each other.

Zuko could easily just go back to his room, once the girls found theirs. But at the same time…

“They’ll notice if we come from different rooms in the morning,” Sokka says, answering the question Zuko didn’t ask.

Zuko groans. “Okay. I – okay. Just – okay.” He walks past Sokka, pushing open the door. Sokka follows quickly.

The door slams shut behind them and Zuko turns on his heel, a wild look on his face that instantly sobers Sokka up.

“What was _that_?”

Sokka stares back at him, panic rising in his chest. Please, please, _please_ let Zuko _not_ be talking about the – well not _love_ confession – but –

“What was what?”

Zuko looks at him like he’s being deliberately stupid. “The _kiss_?”

Thank spirits. That’s (slightly) easier to explain.

“What do you mean?” Sokka asks, giving Zuko a puzzled look, because even though it’s _easier_ to explain, that doesn’t mean that Sokka _wants_ to, “I thought we established that kissing was expected.”

“I mean, _yeah_ , but,” Zuko splutters, clearly flustered, “You didn’t have to – in my – that was really _–_ that was a lot, Sokka.”

Sokka hopes that the mortification that he _knows_ is evident on his face isn't as blatant as it feels. “I can, uh, tone it down,” he promises, “I swear, I wasn’t trying to go overboard, it’s just, you know, they hadn’t seen us kiss since yesterday, and –”

“So kissing is a daily thing, then? We've gotta check it off the to do list?” Zuko interrupts.

Sokka glares at him. “I _guess_. I’m just saying that it would be weird to go _longer_ than a day, is all. And it’s not like I didn’t act like that with Suki.”

"You never acted like _that_ with Suki,” Zuko retorts, “Trust me. I would know.”

Sokka isn’t sure what that means, and he doesn’t really want to ask, because he’s already embarrassed himself what feels like ten times in the last few hours. So, instead, he sighs and says, “Okay. Let’s just go to bed.”

Zuko frowns. “Bed?”

“The place where one typically sleeps?”

“I know what a _bed_ is,” Zuko snaps, “I just – your bed?”

Sokka stares at him. “There’s no secret second bed in here, Zuko.”

Zuko fiddles with the end of his sleeve, looking anywhere but at Sokka. Finally, he says, “I don’t have my pajamas.”

“You can borrow some of mine."

Zuko gives him a look. “…Okay.”

Grateful for the excuse to leave this weird, almost fight-like stance the two of them have found themselves in, Sokka half runs across his room to grab Zuko a spare pair of pajamas. “You can change in the bathroom,” he says without turning around.

“Thanks,” Zuko says quietly, from right behind Sokka. Sokka nearly jumps through the roof. “Sorry,” Zuko adds, but when Sokka turns around, he’s smirking.

“Asshole,” Sokka mutters. Zuko’s smirk doesn’t fade.

When Zuko gets back, Sokka has changed into his own pajamas and settled himself under the blankets on his side of the bed. Not that Zuko has a side of the – whatever. Sokka’s _normal_ side of the bed, that he sleeps on regardless of if there’s someone else there.

Zuko walks around to the empty side, pulling up the covers and sliding in. He lays down flat on his back and stares at the ceiling, silently.

Sokka feels like he’s going to crawl out of his skin.

“So,” Sokka says, turning his head to watch Zuko.

Zuko looks over, his expression interested. “So?”

“You’re not actually mad at me, are you?” Sokka asks before he can stop himself.

Zuko rolls his eyes. “No, I’m not mad.”

The wave of relief that rushes over Sokka then is almost embarrassing, so, he reaches out and punches Zuko’s shoulder. “Good. _Jerk_.”

Zuko laughs in shock. “Are you _trying_ to make me mad?”

“Not right now,” Sokka answers with a grin, “But if I _do_ piss you off, I want it to be on purpose.”

Zuko makes an exasperated sound. “You’re so stupid.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s why you love me.”

“Yeah,” Zuko echoes quietly, his expression softening, and Sokka can hear his own heartbeat. He only _just_ resists the urge to punch Zuko again.

“So, um, _goodnight_ ,” Sokka says, turning on his side to face the opposite direction.

“Night,” Zuko answers, and though Sokka can’t see him, he can hear the slight frown in his voice as the mattress shifts beneath them, Zuko rolling to look the opposite way too.

* * *

It’s familiar, this feeling, but that doesn’t mean that Sokka’s ever gotten used to it.

There’s a very quiet part of him that _knows_ this isn’t real. Deep in the back of his mind, he knows that his eyes will fly open soon, knows that he’s actually safe in his bed, tucked under soft blankets and far, _far_ away from the dangers of war.

That doesn’t make the vision of Aang, crumpled in Katara’s arms, tears streaking down her cheeks, any less gut-wrenching.

That doesn’t stop his heart from dropping to his stomach, to his feet, through the floor and into nothingness at the feeling, however phantom, of Toph’s hand slipping from his.

That doesn’t erase the complete and utter terror that he feels as the scene shifts again, and suddenly he’s leaning over the edge of the gondola he’s visited in this state between reality and peaceful sleep far too many times, as he just _barely_ grab’s Zuko’s hand, slick with sweat, and struggles to keep a firm grip. He knows it isn’t real, but the chill that rushes over his body _must_ be real, as this version of Zuko isn’t pulled up into the safety of his arms, his fingers instead unable to keep their hold on Sokka’s, his eyes wide with fear as he falls down, down, down –

Sokka jerks awake, sitting up so quickly that he hears his spine crack, as though it too is surprised by his sudden consciousness. His breathing is far too quick, not quite hyperventilating, but dangerously close – as it always is, after a nightmare like that. 

Unlike every other time he’s woken up from that nightmare though, Sokka isn’t alone in his bed. Sokka glances down – Zuko’s still asleep, but he’s turned towards Sokka at some point in the night, his arms wrapped around his pillow, the right side of his face smushed into the pillowcase. He looks peaceful, his features relaxed from their usual constant glower, Katara’s carefully fashioned braid now messy, tendrils of hair loose against his forehead and framing his face. Sokka finds himself grinning before he can stop himself – yet another thing that is not typically included in his post nightmare routine.

It normally takes Sokka awhile to calm himself down, but even though his heart is still racing, and his hands are doing the cold, shaky thing they always do, Sokka can feel a sense of peace settling over his mind, the longer he watches Zuko.

He lays back down, turning on his side and pulling the covers up over his shoulders.

 _That_ of all things, not Sokka jolting up spontaneously, is what wakes Zuko.

“Mnngh,” Zuko groans into the pillow, and Sokka just barely suppresses a snort.

“Go back to sleep,” Sokka whispers. It has the opposite effect.

Zuko’s right eye cracks open, his eyebrow furrowing into a concerned glare. “Why are _you_ awake?”

“Had a nightmare,” Sokka says, as nonchalantly as possible, “Happens. Don’t worry about it. Just go back to bed.”

Again. Opposite effect.

Zuko props himself up on his elbow, fist against his cheek, fully awake now and looking even more concerned than he had before. “Are you okay?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Sokka insists, and really, he _is_. He deals with this on his own all the time, more often than he’s fond of, but the frequency has made it something that he's perfectly capable of dealing with. Independently.

Zuko seems to understand what Sokka’s thinking. “I get nightmares too. If you want to – you know – talk about it.”

“I don’t,” Sokka says quickly, feeling instantly like an ass when Zuko’s face falls. “I mean – it’s not that – it’s not that I wouldn’t talk to _you_ about it, specifically, I just in _general_ , don’t like to talk about it. Nightmares. Generally.”

Zuko’s face shifts back to concern. “You _should_. Talking about everything that happened to us is important, Sokka. If Azula and I hadn’t spent the last six years _talking_ , who knows where we would be now?”

“ _You’d_ be fine,” Sokka says dismissively.

“You don’t know that,” Zuko says seriously, “And Azula definitely wouldn’t be.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not _Azula_ ,” Sokka starts, but falls silent at the look Zuko gives him.

“Hey, she’s come a _really_ long way, and I know that she still has work to do, and I understand if people don’t forgive her, but don’t –”

“I’m not! I’m not,” Sokka apologizes, “Seriously, Azula’s – she’s great now.”

Zuko gives him another look.

“Okay, she’s like, solid now. I genuinely believe that she’s not going to try to kill me, or any of the rest of us, at any point. Probably.”

Zuko laughs. “And do you know how she got there? Through _talking_.”

“Yeah, well,” Sokka says, sitting back up and scooting backwards towards the headboard, looking at his lap, “I haven’t – I don’t talk about this.”

Zuko sits up too. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, “But – hey. Sokka.”

Sokka looks back up, and Zuko’s face has gone from concerned to downright alarmed. “ _What_?”

“Your hands,” Zuko says, pointing to them, “Sokka, are you sure you’re okay?”

Sokka glances down and – yeah, his hands are still doing the shaky thing. Because of course they are, why _wouldn’t_ they? “I’m fine,” Sokka maintains, “Seriously, this always happens.”

Zuko looks upset. “This _always_ happens?”

“It’s _fine_ , Zuko, seriously, I –” Sokka stops.

What Sokka's _thinking_ is, _I was fine, the second I woke up and saw that you were okay._

But Sokka isn't going to _say_ that.

“It’s like, I don’t know – a thing. I always get cold and shaky after nightmares, but it’s nothing to worry about, okay? Let’s just go back to sleep.”

Zuko frowns but nods. “Okay.”

They lay down again, on their backs, and Sokka pulls the covers up to his chin. He’s still shivering, but he hopes Zuko doesn’t notice.

“Sokka, you’re still shaking.”

Ugh.

“I’m sorry, if it’s bothering you, I can try to –”

“It’s not _bothering_ me,” Zuko snaps, “I don’t want you to freeze to death.”

Sokka turns his head to glare at him. “I told you, this happens _all_ the time.”

Zuko looks frustrated for a second, like he’s contemplating something, then pulls out his hand from under the covers and sticks it out at Sokka. “Here.”

Sokka stares. “What?”

“I –” Even in the dark, Sokka can see Zuko’s face go pink, “– I’ll warm you back up.”

 _Oh_.

“That’s – Zuko, you don’t have to –”

“Well I’m not going to be able to sleep if you don’t stop shaking the bed,” Zuko cuts him off. And Sokka can’t really argue with that.

“Okay,” Sokka says, grabbing Zuko’s hand with one of his before he can overthink it.

The effect is instantaneous. Sokka doesn’t think Zuko’s touch has ever felt _this_ warm, the heat blossoming across Sokka’s body so quickly that it feels like he’s submerged himself completely in a hot spring.

Sokka can’t help the sigh of relief that he lets out, the way he closes his eyes at the sensation, or his murmured, “ _Thank_ you.”

“You’re welcome,” Zuko whispers, and that whisper is the last thing Sokka remembers, because the combination of post nightmare exhaustion and the toasty feeling of Zuko’s warmth trapped beneath thick blankets is enough to send Sokka almost instantly back to sleep.

And if Sokka drifts back into consciousness in the quiet of the night and finds his face pressed into Zuko’s side, one arm thrown casually around his hips, and makes no effort to move away – well – that’s between him and the moon.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello?? we've hit 1,000+ kudos??? 10,000+ hits?? are you sure about that????
> 
> the response to this has made me feel genuinely so overwhelmed in absolutely the best way. i love every single one of you who has left kudos, comments, messaged me on tumblr, or just decided to read this story!!! i can't tell you enough how much that means to me like. thank you thank you thank you.
> 
> special shout out to my bestie and light of my life, sai, for coming up with toph's nickname for ty lee in this chapter. 
> 
> as always: leave me some comments!


	5. it's new

Sokka is having the dream again. The nice one, the _warm_ one, with gentle fingers running through his hair.

It’s a little different though. Before, the movements through his hair has been confident, sure, like it was something that happened all the time. Now they seem almost cautious, a little shaky, nervous even.

And Sokka is fairly certain that last time, he had been resting in someone’s lap. Now, the warmth beneath his head feels more solid - maybe a stomach? - and there’s soft fabric pressed against his cheek.

It’s weird, how vivid this version of the dream is. Like, super weird, actually. It almost feels real.

That thought slips away though, when the fingers become more emboldened, nails grazing along dream Sokka’s scalp, and the happy sigh that slips out of his mouth is almost involuntary, as is the way that he snuggles closer to the source of warmth.

Which abruptly disappears, accompanied by a loud thud.

Sokka, infuriatingly _awake_ now, turns his head, his eyes still closed against the suddenness of the morning, to groan into his pillow. He’s met instead with the sensation of having his nose shoved backwards into his skull.

“What the fuck,” he mutters into the flat, rigid surface that is almost certainly _not_ his pillow.

He gets no response at first, then - shuffling sounds, and the echoing of hurried footsteps against stone. Sokka turns his head back to its original position and opens his eyes, just in time to see his bathroom door swing shut.

Okay.

Sokka takes a second to evaluate his current position. First of all, he’s alone in his bed, which, duh. Sokka isn’t stupid and he is fully awake enough to like, process the events occurring. He _has_ managed to put two and two together that Zuko is the one who had just rushed into the bathroom (and… had fallen off the bed?)

That’s – well, it’s a pressing issue, but Sokka decides to ignore it, and its implications. For now.

Sokka goes back to trying to understand _why_ he’d nearly broken his nose a minute ago. His head is laying not on his pillow, he realizes, but flat against his mattress. Also, he’s decidedly _not_ on his side of the bed. He’s half stretched across Zuko’s side – or, _whatever_ – his legs curled up like a cat, one arm reaching out, nearly to the edge of the bed, like it had been previously wrapped around…something.

Or someone.

Oh.

Sokka sits up abruptly, scooting back to his side and crossing his legs. Casually. _Super_ casually.

Dream Sokka had been laying on someone warm and…

 _Oh_.

And he had…

Oh, _fuck_.

Sokka briefly considers throwing his parka over his pajamas and running far, far away. Sokka is resourceful. He knows how to hunt. He’s a fucking _war_ hero, for spirits sake, he’s sure that he can –

“Oh – um – you’re awake?”

Sokka looks up and makes an incredibly embarrassing noise of surprise, which he quickly covers, in a voice far deeper than usual, with, “Is that a question?”

“Uh,” Zuko responds intelligently, and Sokka feels his face go red.

This is bad. This is the worst thing that could possibly happen, because Zuko must _know_ or maybe he’s _guessing_ that Sokka has – well, not feelings, but _something_ – and that’s very bad and exactly what Sokka had been trying to avoid.

Zuko is just… staring at him. Lingering near the end of the bed, on – okay, _his_ side – and watching Sokka.

Silently.

Seemingly, waiting for _him_ to say something, which Sokka supposes is fair, since Zuko had spoken last, even though all he had said was “uh,” but for Zuko, that _is_ fairly chatty, especially for this early in the morning (and how had Sokka forgotten, in the middle of the night, that Zuko _always_ wakes up first? How had he managed to convince himself that he would wake up early enough to scoot back to his own side, with Zuko none the wiser?)

And Sokka is just staring back, which is kind of Zuko’s fault, because _Zuko’s_ staring, and his hair – which has fallen completely out of its braid from the night before – is hanging in loose waves around his shoulders, and he’s doing that thing that Sokka always sees him do at early breakfast meetings, hugging himself because his body hasn’t quite adjusted to the morning cold yet, the memory of warm blankets still lingering. Except right now, he’s not doing it fully dressed, he’s doing it in _Sokka’s_ pajama shirt, which is _just_ this side of too small on him (because it’s an _old_ one that doesn’t fit Sokka anymore) and it’s – it’s a lot to take in.

Sokka can’t stop _staring_ at him and Zuko apparently can’t stop staring back, and Sokka’s pretty sure that it’s only been like, ten seconds, but that’s still far too long of a gap in conversation, especially for the two of them, especially considering what they both definitely knew had transpired in the middle of the night, and evidently, this morning.

(Especially considering the fact that Sokka’s stupid, over-imaginative, gay brain had enjoyed whatever had happened so much that his subconscious had convinced him it was a _dream_ and added in _hair_ petting, just to fuck with him and make him do something – and Sokka really didn’t want to think about which of his dream actions had made it into reality – that startled Zuko enough to wake him and send him careening over the side of the bed.)

This is awkward, and they _can’t_ be awkward because there are a million things that they have to do today as an “official couple,” (also known as, a couple that is being observed by people _other_ than their friends), and they definitely can’t do those things if all they can do is stare at each other uncomfortably.

Sokka should tell a joke. Jokes make things less awkward. Zuko _loves_ his jokes, generally, even when he’s giving Sokka looks like the one he’s giving him right now – bewildered and a little bit uneasy, lips pursed slightly. Lips which look almost unnervingly soft right now (that one really annoying voice in the back of Sokka’s head supplies the word _plush_ ) and – okay, if Sokka doesn’t say something, _now_ , he’s becoming increasingly worried that he might just kiss Zuko, and unlike the night before, there isn’t anyone around to justify that as a reasonable thing to do.

So, Sokka forces the dumbstruck look of his face, replacing it with a trademark sarcastic grin, and says –

“What, no good morning kiss?”

What –

“ _What_?”

– the fuck.

He probably should have looked away from Zuko’s lips before speaking.

Zuko is still staring at him but now, instead of looking nervous, he’s looking at Sokka like he’s gone absolutely insane. And honestly? Maybe he has.

“I’m just _kidding_ ,” Sokka says in a voice that he hopes sounds casual, like _Zuko_ is the one that’s acting weird. Because Zuko is _not_ laughing, and the panic rising in Sokka’s chest is way too much for how early in the morning it is. And really, it isn’t _fair_ of Zuko to be all – _looking like that_ – before Sokka’s even woken up properly _and_ expect him to not have major foot-in-mouth syndrome. “I obviously don’t want your morning breath in my mouth.”

Zuko leans against Sokka’s bedpost and glares at him.

“Are you always like this when you wake up?”

It’s not a severe glare – it’s _warm_ , somehow, because glaring warmly is something that Zuko is apparently capable of doing, and doing very well, if the way that Sokka’s fingers and toes feel all tingly when he meets Zuko’s eyes is indication enough.

Sokka figures, based on the lack of real anger in his eyes, that Zuko’s written off his worst attempt at a joke _ever_ as a side effect of Sokka being up an hour earlier than normal. That, or he’s choosing to ignore it, because he’s a wonderful friend who doesn’t actually _want_ to watch Sokka smother himself with a pillow out of embarrassment.

Either way, Sokka assumes that he’s in the clear.

“Not sure. I don’t normally talk to myself, so I wouldn’t know.”

Zuko snorts and, yeah, he’s definitely not _really_ mad. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Fine,” Sokka concedes, “I don’t talk to myself _that_ much.”

“Again, I seriously doubt that,” Zuko says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He’s sitting stiffly, like he’s about to stand up and run out the door. “What time is Katara’s waterbending lesson again? I should go get some work done before then, but I don’t want to be late.”

“It’s not until this afternoon,” Sokka says, frowning slightly, “But I don’t think we’re going to have much time between that and the meeting at the embassy. We should get breakfast to go, honestly.”

Zuko stares at him, confused. “Meeting at the embassy?”

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Sokka says, eyeing him with concern, because it isn’t like Zuko to forget meetings. “About the Winter Solstice Festival?”

“I thought that was a Water Tribe only meeting.”

“It _was_ – until you became my boyfriend,” Sokka confirms. Neither of them comment on his neglect of the prefix ‘fake.’ “Now, Koatas wants you to like, shadow the meeting or whatever. Sorry, I thought they sent you a note.”

“I think I’ve gotten one schedule change note this entire week,” Zuko mutters. After a pause, he asks, “Don’t these meetings normally go on for _hours_?”

“Yep,” Sokka says, and Zuko groans, turning slightly so that he can flop face first onto the bed. Sokka stretches out his leg to kick Zuko in the side and adds, “This one shouldn’t be _too_ bad, though. It’s just wrapping up details – the festival’s _tomorrow_ , so.”

“So then why do I have to go? I’m assuming that ‘shadowing’ means that I’m not supposed to contribute anything, right?” Zuko asks, his voice muffled by Sokka’s mattress.

“Because as the _boyfriend_ of the future chief, you’re supposed to show an interest in Water Tribe culture,” Sokka answers, watching as the muscles in Zuko’s back tense.

Zuko turns onto his side and gives Sokka an annoyed look. “It’s not that I’m not interested, I’m just not sure what the goal is of having me attend a meeting about decisions that have _already_ been made, where I’m not allowed to _talk_.”

“Maybe they just want you there as my arm candy,” Sokka considers.

Zuko slaps the side of his leg. “ _Shut up_.”

“What?” Sokka asks, and because he can’t help himself, adds, “You’re nice to look at. You would be perfectly acceptable arm candy.”

“Shut up,” Zuko says again, fixing a pointed glare in Sokka’s direction, his hand hovering near Sokka’s leg.

“Or _maybe_ ,” Sokka wonders, unperturbed by the silent threat, “They want to see if you can be patient and calm. Both _very_ valuable traits in a partner.”

“Well, then I guess you need to find a new partner,” Zuko grumbles, dropping his hand.

“I’m good with you, thanks,” Sokka says before he can think about it, or the implications therein.

Zuko turns his face away before Sokka can see if his words had triggered any alarm bells in his mind and pushes himself into a sitting position before standing back up. He doesn’t move towards the door, but he says, “I should, uh – I should go get dressed first, at least.”

“Fair point,” Sokka says, standing up too, because he’s been sitting still too long and he’s starting to feel uncomfortably antsy, “Plus, you know, your morning breath. Don’t want to have to fake kiss you if your breath smells.”

“My breath does _not_ –”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Sokka says as he rounds the bed.

Zuko just glares at him.

“You’re so grumpy in the morning,” Sokka muses, reaching out and poking Zuko’s nose as he passes by him on the way to his closet, “You’re like a little crocokitten.”

“I’m like a _what_?”

“A crocokitten – like –”

“I know what a crocokitten is Sokka, but a kitten? Not even a crococat?”

Sokka turns around and purses his lips, as though deep in thought, and lets his eyes rake over Zuko’s appearance - his hair sticking up in weird places, Sokka’s pajama shirt riding up and exposing his hip bone, redness blooming across his cheeks, and his bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

“No,” Sokka decides, “Definitely a kitten.”

* * *

The meeting _does_ go on for hours, exactly as Zuko had predicted, which is pretty annoying considering it was supposed to be – Sokka had been _told_ that it would be – just a wrap-up _summary_ meeting. However, despite the fact that all of the details for the Winter Solstice Festival – the first in the south since before the war, an attempt to merge together Northern and Southern Water Tribe traditions for the sake of the northerners now living there and a sense of cross tribe unity – had already been decided on in the _last_ meeting, over a week ago, Councilman Koatas and Ambassador Kedinuk had still felt the need to spend multiple hours arguing over the most minute technicalities.

And even though, theoretically, Zuko was the only person in attendance that wasn’t _supposed_ to talk, Sokka, Katara, and Veya – Sokka and Katara representing the ‘youth’ of the South, and Veya the North – had barely gotten a word in edgewise. The meeting was meant to be a final discussion of all the details and things that still needed to get done before tomorrow but had ended up being less of a discussion and more of a performative debate between Koatas and Kedinuk that the other four had been forced to watch, Katara and Veya quietly whispering to each other while Sokka and Zuko wrote notes back and forth on the piece of parchment where Sokka had originally planned to take notes, back when he’d foolishly assumed there would actually be something of substance to take notes on.

The fact that the meeting ends up being nothing more than an ego-fueled back and forth between Koatas and Kedinuk makes it even more annoying that Sokka, quietly, had been thinking that Koatas had, even if absentmindedly, made a point that he agreed with.

It _does_ allow him to hold his tongue after the meeting, when Koatas says that he’ll be accompanying them to Katara’s waterbending lessons, if only to see the preview of the waterbending display her and her students are meant to perform at the festival. Well, it allows him to hold his tongue until Koatas’s response to Zuko grabbing Sokka’s hand once they’ve made their way out of the embassy and into the chilly afternoon air is to march ahead of the rest of the group, clearly having no interest in walking _with_ them.

Really, it almost kills Sokka to admit that he and Koatas are on the same page about something. But he’d never talked to Veya about this, and she might be more receptive than Katara or Zuko had been when he’d brought it up in the past.

“You know,” he says, once Koatas has walked far enough ahead that he’s out of earshot, “If we’re being _really_ technical, then it _should_ be called the _summer_ solstice festival.”

Zuko groans loudly as Katara grumbles, “Oh spirits not _this_ again.”

“ _What_?” Sokka demands, “It _should_ be. Just because it’s called the winter solstice in the North Pole, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s _literally summer here_. Like, look around. Look _up._ It hasn’t gotten dark here in weeks.”

“Huh,” Veya says vaguely, “That’s an interesting point.”

“An interesting point that he’s made at least fifty-three times since you’ve been gone,” Katara informs her. She grabs Zuko by the elbow, tugs him away from Sokka, and loops their arms together, pulling him ahead and saying, “Let’s _go_ , Zuko, before we have to listen to the same argument for the fifty- _fourth_ time.”

Zuko grins apologetically over his shoulder at Sokka as Katara drags him ahead. Sokka blows him a kiss, to which Zuko responds with a dramatic eye roll.

“Anyways,” Sokka resumes, turning to Veya eagerly, “I understand that we’re supposed to working towards sister tribe unity here, but I don’t understand how we’re meant to be _unified_ if we can’t even, as a group, process the fact that we have different _seasons_.”

Veya stares at him for a second, then says, “Sokka, they’re not going to change the name.”

Sokka deflates. “Yeah, I know. Come on, let’s go catch up to Katara and Zu –”

“Wait.”

Sokka looks over in surprise – Veya had grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop.

“What’s wrong?”

Veya chews at her lip. “Nothing’s _wrong_ , I just – I want to talk to you about something.”

Sokka starts walking again, waiting to make sure that Veya is following him before asking, “What is it?”

Veya’s eyes flicker away from Sokka and towards Katara and Zuko. Sokka can tell from the way they’re practically bouncing along in the snow that they’re having a much more enjoyable conversation than whatever this is about to be, and he has to resist the urge to tell Veya that they can talk about this, whatever this _is_ , later.

“Okay,” Veya says, more to herself than to Sokka, “First, I wanted to say that I’m sorry if I like, reacted weirdly when you and Zuko came by the embassy the other day. I should’ve – I don’t know, been more normal about that, and I really hope that I didn’t give you the idea that I don’t support you, or don’t like Zuko, or that I agree at _all_ with Ambassador Kedinuk, because I _don’t_ , and _Yue_ –”

“Woah, woah,” Sokka cuts her off, not stopping, but slowing their pace enough to linger further behind the rest of the group, “What? Where is this coming from? What does Yue have to do with anything?”

Veya bites at her lip again, anxiously, and Sokka is starting to get seriously worried that she’s going to chew it off.

“Yue was – you know that we were friends. Like, best friends.”

“Yeah,” Sokka says softly, letting his eyes flicker up for a moment to where the crescent moon is just barely visible against the blue sky, “I know.”

“Right,” Veya says, “Well, I just, I’ve been thinking, since I found out about you and Zuko that I should tell you that a bit before she – a couple months before you all came to the North Pole, before she got engaged to Hahn, she told me that – well, she also. You know.”

Sokka just stares at her. “Know what?”

“She _also_ liked boys _and_ girls.”

“ _Oh_.”

“Yeah,” Veya breathes, “And I don’t know, with everything with the council trying to – you know – I just. I thought that you should know that.”

“Thanks,” Sokka says, because his mind is spinning a bit and he’s not really sure what else _to_ say.

“I just – I don’t really know why, but I wanted you to know that. I felt like _she_ would’ve wanted you to know that,” Veya looks down for a moment, then adds, in a voice that seems forced towards sounding nonchalant, “And, uh, – well, I need to apologize to Zuko, but – I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

 _That’s_ enough to jar Sokka out of his dazed state. He almost stops them again, just barely _not_ tripping as he continues forward, the abrupt change of subject nearly sending him flying face first into the snow. “Apologize to _Zuko_?”

“Yes,” Veya says, a little bit impatiently, “I didn’t – well, I mean, obviously I didn’t know that the two of you were together, and I didn’t know that he would react like that, but still, I feel really bad about – I shouldn’t have _launched_ myself at you like that, and –”

“Veya, what are you _talking_ about?”

Veya gives him a bewildered look. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Sokka confirms.

“I mean – Sokka, I didn’t mean to make Zuko jealous.”

Sokka is fairly certain that Veya is intent on killing him from shock. He _does_ stop that time, nearly skidding to a halt.

“ _What_?”

“Look,” Veya says, a bit frustrated, “Just because I didn’t immediately pick up on the fact that you two were dating, doesn’t mean that I’m completely _oblivious_ to people’s feelings. It just took me a second to understand, and I swear, I didn’t _mean_ to cross any lines or make him feel – ugh, I just feel so _bad_ , especially now that I know what happened in the council meeting, that can’t have helped at all, and I –”

“Back up,” Sokka asks, and Veya gives him a confused look. “Zuko? Jealous?”

“Yes?” Veya questions, watching Sokka as though she’s waiting for him to yell, “Gotcha!”

“Zuko was not jealous,” Sokka says, because there’s no _way_ he was, and acting _jealous_ wasn’t exactly the best way to convince people that they were in a steady, healthy, leadership appropriate relationship – jealous was _not_ how people who were _fake_ dating acted – jealous was – well – jealous was how _Sokka_ had acted, the night before, when there had been absolutely no reason to, just like there had been no reason for Zuko to be jealous of _Veya_ , who –

“Sokka?”

Veya is watching him, frowning slightly, and he wonders what expressions had just crossed his face.

“Sorry, I just – Zuko isn’t – there’s no reason for him to be jealous.” Veya’s face does something weird, and Sokka scrambles, “I mean, not that you’re not worthy of being jealous of – that’s not what I –”

“It’s fine, Sokka,” Veya says, patting his arm, “I know what you meant. But –”

“But what?” 

“There was – well – okay.” Veya takes a deep breath. “I know that you’re aware of the fact that when the council and the ambassadors were, you know, planning your marriage, they had prepared lists of potential partners.”

Sokka feels his mouth drop open of its own accord, somehow understanding where she’s going before his brain does.

“Yeah,” Veya says, taking that as a confirmation, “So. I was on one of those lists. At the top of it, actually, so um – my confusion was not at the _idea_ of you two dating so much as it was –”

“Shit,” Sokka whispers.

Veya nods.

“Yeah, that sums it up.”

“Veya, I don’t even know what to – ”

“Sokka, it’s fine, seriously,” Veya interrupts quickly, “Like, don’t lose any sleep over this. I wasn’t off in the North Pole dreaming about marrying you for the past two months.”

“Ouch,” Sokka says, placing a hand over his heart dramatically.

Veya elbows him in the side.

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you feel bad for _me_ or are you upset that I’m not fawning over you?”

“I mean, hey, I’m apparently a hot commodity,” Sokka says, earning him another elbow in the side.

They fall into a comfortable silence which Sokka deems a miracle, considering how many ups and downs that short conversation had taken. He’s grateful for it, because though it’s clear from the smile that’s returned to Veya’s face that she’s gotten what _she_ needed to say off her chest, Sokka’s mind is reeling.

Zuko?

 _Jealous_?

Sokka’s eyes find Zuko’s back, far enough ahead that Sokka knows that he hadn’t overheard any of their conversation. For some reason, a nervous pit still forms in Sokka’s stomach.

If Zuko is jealous – and that’s a big _if_ – then wouldn’t that imply that –

Could Zuko…like him?

No. Right?

How would Sokka _know_ if Zuko has a crush on him? Well, he guesses that he could look for the -

Sokka realizes with a start that he has absolutely no idea what Zuko with a crush looks like.

They talk about everything – like _everything_ — but somehow, Sokka processes in that moment, they had never... talked about this. In any capacity. Sokka’s not actually sure that Zuko has ever _had_ a crush, on anyone. Or at least, Sokka sort of hopes that _is_ the case, because if it isn’t, then that means that Zuko has never been comfortable enough to talk to Sokka about it, and that hurts in a way that he can’t even begin to process.

And it’s not like they hadn’t talked about _Sokka’s_ romantic life in the past. Zuko had been a steadfast support system after his breakup with Suki, had listened to him vent and mope with no complaint. Yet, somehow – and seriously, Sokka feels like an ass for not noticing until now – the conversation had never happened in the reverse.

A hopeful, mildly insane voice in the back of his head suggests that maybe, there’s a reason that Zuko had never talked to Sokka about his infatuations, that _maybe_ –

But, no.

But also, Veya had said –

Okay.

If Zuko had been jealous, then...

Well.

If what Veya’s saying _is_ true, and she’s insisting that it is, and as far as Sokka is aware, there’s no reason for her to _lie_ about it, then the events of that morning seem... a little bit different now. Maybe. In theory.

Theoretically, if Zuko _is_ jealous of Veya, then the fact that he had reacted to Sokka’s subconscious (and okay, conscious) desire to cuddle him by flinging himself to the floor and hiding, was perhaps not a moment of disgust but - embarrassment? Had Zuko been... flustered? 

But no, Sokka can’t just come to the conclusion that Zuko might - he won’t even let himself think the words - just because _Veya_ thinks that his standoffish attitude, also known as pretty typical Zuko behavior, was jealousy. There’s no reason for Sokka to re-examine every interaction that they’d had in the last week to look for other signs of potential jealousy or – nope, again, _not_ letting himself think the words. He’s not going to do that, because that way lies madness.

What Sokka _can_ do though, is start paying attention now. And there’s no need for him to merely accept that Veya’s assumptions are correct. Why _accept_ that a theory is true, when Sokka can test it?

“I have a plan,” Sokka whispers, unnecessarily, because Zuko and Katara are definitely still out of earshot, even though they’ve stopped in front of Katara’s waterbending studio and are chatting, waiting for Sokka and Veya to catch up.

“A plan?” Veya questions, giving him a sideways glance.

“I don’t believe that Zuko is jealous. You do,” Sokka explains, “I say that instead of arguing about it - let’s test it.”

“Test it?” Veya repeats.

“Test it,” Sokka confirms.

“And how _exactly_ do you plan do that?” Veya asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

“How did _you_ come to the conclusion that he was jealous?”

Veya pulls him to a stop, just before they’re too close to continue talking about this.

“Sokka, that’s - I’m not going to help you bully Zuko.”

“It’s not bullying,” Sokka insists, “Its teasing, which is something that Zuko absolutely knew he was signing up for when he agreed to date me.”

“Fair point,” Veya concedes.

“Anyways, if I’m right, then there’s no harm done.”

“And if I’m right, which I am,” Veya asserts, “He’s just going to get more jealous! Plus, teasing him is just going to make him hate me even more.”

“Okay first of all, even _if_ you’re right, he definitely doesn’t hate you,” Sokka argues, “Either way, I’m afraid I’m gonna need hard evidence to back that up before I believe you.”

“ _Sokka_ ,” Veya whines, eyes flickering to where the rest of the group is watching them warily, likely wondering why they’re just standing still in the snow.

“Consider this you making it up to me for making my boyfriend jealous,” Sokka says, talking over Veya’s indignant yelp to add, “ _Theoretically_.”

“Fine,” Veya grumbles, “But what are you going to –”

Sokka throws an arm around her shoulders as they climb up the stairs to meet the rest of the group. Sokka _hears_ Veya make a noise that sounds vaguely like, “ _boys are ridiculous_ ,” from his side, but his eyes are focused on Zuko, looking for a reaction.

Zuko’s face remains neutral…ish as they approach, but Sokka swears that his eye twitches, just a little bit. The way that Veya’s shoulders go slightly tense underneath his arm confirms that he’s not the only one who noticed it.

Huh.

“Sokka, get off of Veya, she has a demonstration to do,” Katara admonishes him, grabbing Veya’s hand and pulling her away from him, into the studio. Koatas isn’t there – Sokka assumes he’s already inside, but Zuko lingers for a moment, watching Sokka with narrowed eyes, before gesturing at the open door.

“After you.”

If Zuko isn’t annoyed at Sokka, then he’s definitely annoyed at something else, and considering the fact that he’d been happily chatting with Katara just a few minutes previously…

Sokka feels a weight that feels simultaneously laden with hope and guilt settle somewhere near his heart.

“We should go in together,” Sokka says under his breath, grabbing Zuko’s hand before he can disagree.

“Okay,” Zuko says flatly, letting Sokka tug him inside.

“Are you okay?” Sokka whispers, once they’ve sat down in the viewing area, Koatas to Sokka’s right.

Zuko glances over and he looks almost surprised at Sokka’s question. “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine – why?”

Spirits above. Had Sokka been _that_ oblivious to Zuko’s changes in mood in the past that he didn’t expect Sokka to notice _that_?

“No reason,” Sokka says, aware of the way that Koatas is leaning slightly towards them, eavesdropping.

Zuko stares a second longer, confused, before shrugging and squeezing Sokka’s hand, like nothing had happened at all. “Okay.”

After Katara, Veya, and the other waterbending students have finished their demonstration, Koatas leaves, with nothing more than a bow, a muttered, “Master Katara,” and a cursory glance in Sokka and Zuko’s direction.

The moment that the other students have left, Katara rushes towards Sokka and Zuko, grabbing Zuko’s arm again.

“Now that _that’s_ over,” she exclaims, dragging Zuko into the middle of the room and ignoring Sokka’s squeak of annoyance, “Zuko and I have something to show you. Veya, go sit with Sokka.”

Sokka’s eyes focus involuntarily on Zuko at that – and _yep_. Narrowed eyes. Again.

Veya shoots Zuko a nervous look, and looks at Sokka with wiggling eyebrows that say, quite plainly, _I told you so_ , but sits next to him anyways.

“Katara, I’ve seen you do waterbending forms before,” Sokka says, crossing his arms.

“Can you shut up for like, one minute?” Katara asks. Zuko snorts into his hand and it’s so maddeningly adorable that Sokka does, in fact, shut up. “Thank you,” Katara says, and Sokka has to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying that she is _not_ the reason he’s been stunned into silence.

“What do you want to show us?” Veya asks, and Katara grins.

“ _As_ you know, Veya, waterbending and firebending are generally very different in form and technique. But some forms of firebending – for example, lightning bending – are inspired _by_ waterbending, so Zuko and I wanted to experiment a bit.”

“Is this what you two do when I’m on hunting trips?” Sokka asks, earning him a glare from Katara.

“Do you want to see or not?”

It’s been awhile, since Sokka last saw Zuko firebend. As though answering the thought about to form in Sokka’s mind about firebending and heat, Zuko pulls off his coat, tossing it behind him. Sokka nods.

“Sorry, Sifu Katara. Show us the cool moves.”

“ _Master_ Katara,” she corrects him, but turns to look at Zuko with a wide smile. “Water whips first?”

“Sure,” Zuko agrees.

They both bend into a stance that Sokka has seen Katara take what feels like a million times, but even Sokka has to admit that it’s kind of breathtaking to watch as they _both_ move their arms through the fluid steps, water from Katara’s waterskin parallel with fire from Zuko’s hands. And yes, Sokka knows that he should be watching both of them, but there’s something transfixing about the way Zuko’s arms flow through the movements. Sokka almost jumps as they whip their hands towards the other side of the studio, Zuko’s flames vanishing before they can hit anything, and Katara pulling her water back towards her at the same moment.

“ _Wow_ ,” Veya breathes, “How did you get fire to _do_ that?”

“A lot of practice,” Zuko says, “But there are some moves that we’ve gotten to go the other way too, like –”

“ _Fire blades_ ,” Katara whispers dramatically, leaping forward to move into the next stance.

Zuko grabs her arm, pulling her back. “Actually,” he starts, then pulls her close enough to whisper into her ear. Sokka watches nervously as her expression changes from confused to _conniving._

“Change of plans,” Katara says, “Now this one is a little bit harder, and I’m not sure that I’ve _quite_ got it mastered but –”

Instead of finishing speaking, Katara practically flings herself towards the ground, catching herself with her hands and an amount of core strength that Sokka did not know she had, flinging her legs around in a move that Sokka had only seen Zuko do _once_ (and then proceeded to think about for like, a week, and – _oh_ ). But Sokka doesn’t have time to do anything more than be briefly impressed and to catch sight of Zuko watching him with a maniacal glint in his eyes before he realizes that Katara doesn’t have a strong handle on the _water_ part of this move.

Veya squeaks in surprise from his side and Sokka throws his hands up to cover his face – it does nothing against the sudden splash of icy cold water.

“ _Katara_!”

“Whoops,” Katara says from the floor, “Told you I was still working on that one.”

Sokka, now drenched, glares at her. “Then you shouldn’t have _tried_ it, because now we’re –” he snaps, turning to look at Veya, who is – completely dry, her arms held up in front of her. “ _Seriously_?”

“Sorry!” Veya says, not sounding sorry at all, “She caught me off guard, or I would’ve gotten you too!”

Sokka doesn’t believe that. He’s about to turn to Zuko, to ask him to dry him off, when Zuko starts _laughing_.

Sokka turns his head so quickly it hurts and meets Zuko’s amused eyes, the first _genuine_ smile that Sokka’s seen on his face since he’d thrown his arm around Veya. Zuko just raises an eyebrow.

 _Oh_. Okay.

So he’s going to play it like _that_?

Fine.

Sokka leaps out of his seat, rushes across the room and flings his arms around Zuko, squeezing him tightly.

“Ew, _Sokka_ , you’re all wet,” Zuko groans, trying to push him off.

Sokka just squeezes him tighter. Then, loudly, loud enough that _everyone_ can hear, Sokka says, “Yeah, I know. Can you warm me up, baby?”

Zuko goes stiff in his arms.

 _Ha_.

Sokka feels heat bloom over his body, and he’s almost sure that it counts as evidence.

* * *

Later, when they’re walking back, a few feet behind Katara and Veya, and Zuko, apparently no longer annoyed at Sokka, suggests under his breath that they should probably share a bed again that night, because Katara will notice and definitely say something if they split off before reaching Sokka’s room, Sokka doesn’t even pretend to argue.

Because, you know. More time spent with Zuko is more time to gather evidence.

 _Not_ because Zuko tugging him closer so that the girls can’t hear him and whispering against his neck, hot breath sending a shiver down Sokka’s spine, is something that _affects_ his decision making. Definitely not because of that.

And when Sokka wakes in the middle of the night, shaking from another nightmare, and finds Zuko wrapped around his arm, chin tucked into his shoulder, the steadiness of his pulse thrumming against Sokka’s skin, he tries his absolute best to carefully, quietly, settle back down against his pillow for no other reason than the fact that waking Zuko would be a whole _thing_ , and if Zuko got too embarrassed, then he probably wouldn’t continue to think them sharing a bed was a good idea. Which would be bad. For Sokka’s investigation.

And when Zuko doesn’t stir, Sokka makes a mental note of the way that Zuko’s toes are brushing against his ankle, of the gentle grip of Zuko’s fingers against his bicep, of the soft tickle of Zuko’s hair against his bare skin.

For research purposes. Obviously.

And of course, when Zuko is back on his side of the bed in the morning - and gives no indication that he’d ever been anywhere else - Sokka chooses not to comment. Because Sokka is a man of science, and it would just be bad practice to interfere with an investigation while it’s still in progress.

The festival itself goes surprisingly well. Despite all of the arguments the day before (and during the months of planning previously), Ambassador Kedinuk and Councilman Koatas lead the ceremonial section of the night seamlessly. If Sokka hadn’t been forced to witness, he wouldn’t believe that they’d been at each other’s throats a day ago.

It also helps that, even though Koatas had insisted on Zuko’s presence in the meeting, none of the non-Water Tribe ambassadors had been asked to stand up on the ice podium Katara had built. Instead, they’d been asked to stand in the front of the gathered crowd, which both made it incredibly convenient for Sokka, during the parts of the ceremony in which he was required to speak, to stare at Zuko _and_ gave him a good excuse to do so. Not that he necessarily needed one – staring at one’s boyfriend while in public was, after all, a perfectly rational thing to do. (Zuko’s encouraging smile was a bit distracting when Sokka wasn’t speaking but was absolutely _supposed_ to be paying attention, but Sokka figures that it was a fair trade off.)

After the demonstration by Katara and her students, Katara and Zuko get to perform _their_ experimental bending moves, after much encouragement from their friends. Astoundingly, it’s well received by mostly everyone (Councilman Koatas and Ambassador Kedinuk seem thrown off and Councilman Sorrok just glares throughout). The _slight_ amount of negativity is all but forgotten though, when one of Katara’s younger students rushes up to Zuko afterwards, asking if the princess of the Fire Nation will be giving lessons when she arrives to the South Pole with the Fire Lord in a few days, which Zuko has to scramble to explain as “perhaps not the best idea.” 

Sokka is thoroughly enjoying himself, until he’s reminded of _the_ moment of the night. The one that – well –

“I still think this is kind of stupid,” Sokka says as he pushes the oars through the water, rowing the canoe away from the shore. Zuko kicks at Sokka’s leg, gently enough that it doesn’t actually disturb his rowing, but hard enough for Sokka to glare at him. “ _What_?”

“I thought you said in your speech that this was a ‘great way to mesh your sister cultures together,’” Zuko recites, imitating Sokka’s voice in a way that Sokka will _never_ admit is actually pretty good, his face lighting up when Sokka rolls his eyes in response.

It _is_ stupid, the fact that the last event on the festival’s itinerary is rowing out to watch the Southern Spirit Lights – lights which first of all, hadn’t been seen in the South Pole since before the war, and second of all, weren’t visible at _all,_ because it is the middle of summer and the sun hasn’t set properly in over a month, so even if there _were_ lights to see (which there aren’t), they wouldn’t be distinguishable from the colors of the sunset currently spread across the sky. Sokka had been planning to say all of that, he _means_ to, really, when he focuses his gaze fully on Zuko, but he finds his tongue – well – tied.

Zuko’s grinning at him, his face backlit by the purple, pink, yellow of the rapidly setting sun, its light reflecting brightly off the deep blue of the water, illuminating the glaciers, and making the gold of Zuko’s eyes practically _burn_. The hair that’s loose from his usual, official top knot is fluttering lightly in the breeze, and Sokka, despite the icy chill of the night, feels like he might actually be in the presence of the sun incarnate.

But it’s not like he’s going to _say_ that, so.

“What, you’re the only one allowed to lie your ass off?” Sokka asks.

Zuko frowns at him and Sokka forcefully ignores the sinking feeling in his stomach at the sudden loss of Zuko’s smile.

“What are you talking about?”

Sokka pauses for a second, looking down and focusing on rowing them out, further away from the other canoes. Katara and Aang’s canoe, though far enough away that he can’t hear their conversation, still feels a little too close to comfort. And if he’s looking down because watching Zuko makes him question his ability to steer, well, then Sokka is just being mindful of their safety.

Once they’ve gotten a bit further out, Sokka begrudgingly looks back at Zuko and finds that he’s eyeing him apprehensively.

“Your story,” Sokka says as a way of explanation, elaborating further when Zuko just looks more confused, “About how you realized you liked me.”

Zuko goes suddenly pink-cheeked. There’s quiet for a moment, no sound but the lapping of water against the side of the canoe and faint, far away laughter that sounds suspiciously like Katara.

“Oh,” Zuko says finally, “Well, you lied too.”

“What are you talking about?” Sokka asks, “My story really happened.”

Zuko stares at him and Sokka feels very intensely, uncomfortably _seen_. It only lasts a few seconds though, before Zuko says, with a sigh, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Sokka tries not to think too hard about that, but _does_ file it away for later, before changing the subject. “So, Veya told me something interesting.”

Zuko narrows his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sokka says, realizing this may not _actually_ be the best subject to bring up, but barreling on anyways, “I guess that she was on the list of the people that the council was considering for me to – well – marry.”

Zuko looks oddly relieved then, slightly smug. “You didn’t know that?”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Sokka asks.

“I mean, she’s from the Northern Water Tribe, so, good political benefits; she’s a _water_ bender, you’re _friends_ with her, she’s pretty,” Zuko lists off, counting on his fingers.

“ _So what_?” Sokka demands, and he’s not entirely sure why he feels angry. “You’re all of those things.”

Zuko makes a noise that’s somewhere in between a laugh and a squeak. “ _Really_.”

“Really,” Sokka repeats, because Zuko’s cheeks are still pink and that has to mean _something_ doesn’t it?

“Well,” Zuko says, and is his voice shaky or is Sokka just reading too much into things? “That doesn’t have any bearing on the fact that those things apply to Veya, _and_ the fact that a partnership between the Northern and Southern Water Tribes is a _lot_ more politically appealing than one with the Fire Nation.”

“I disagree,” Sokka says.

Zuko gives him a critical look. “There aren’t any councilmen in this canoe, Sokka, you don’t have to defend me.”

“I’m aware of that,” Sokka says, “But why _wouldn’t_ an allegiance with the Fire Nation be a good thing? If anything, making sure that the bond between our nations is strong should be like, a priority.”

Zuko makes an exasperated sound, and the rosiness _still_ hasn’t faded from his face. “Does it really matter? This is all theoretical anyways.”

“I guess,” Sokka says. He isn’t really sure why he’s arguing, now that he stops to think about it. Zuko’s right. This is _all_ theoretical, because they aren’t actually dating, and if they _were_ then maybe this would be an argument that Sokka would actually have to present to the council, but they _aren’t,_ and they’re going to break up soon, so –

Zuko nudges at his leg again.

“Do you want me to row?”

Sokka looks down at his lap to find that he’s dropped the oars into it. The canoe, floating in place, is starting to spin a bit, the tide moving them in the absence of Sokka’s rowing.

Sokka’s face heats up, and he tries not to think about Zuko _staring_ at him as he zoned out. “No, I’ve got it.”

He starts rowing again, watching the sun set further into the horizon rather than looking at Zuko. It’s just about at its lowest point, sky and clouds now tinted deep red and orange, and Sokka knows that it will start its ascent into the sky again soon, nightfall never properly starting. Zuko coughs, and Sokka’s eyes shoot up to meet his. He _is_ staring, but there’s a softness to it that makes Sokka’s heart clench.

“So,” Zuko starts, seemingly unaware of Sokka’s near heart failure, “On that note, what are we planning to tell my uncle and Azula when they get here?”

Right. Because Sokka’s twenty first birthday was apparently the biggest deal in the world, Iroh and Azula would be traveling all the way from the Fire Nation to be there for the event itself.

(“Also, because they haven’t seen me in a year and they miss me,” Zuko had reminded him, when Sokka had brought that up dramatically the night before.)

“I don’t know,” Sokka says, now, “The same thing we’ve been telling everyone else? Why, do you think they’ll be able to tell?”

“No, not necessarily,” Zuko says, and there’s a weird edge to his voice that Sokka doesn’t understand, “But I’m not really sure how they’ll react, considering I know that they agree with me. As far as this _not_ being the most politically ideal relationship, anyways.”

Sokka isn’t really sure what comes over him, but he drops the oars again, on purpose this time, and scoots forward into Zuko’s space. Zuko looks startled, glancing down as their knees brush, but doesn’t move away.

“I was serious when I said that I disagree with that, Zuko,” Sokka insists, “And if I have to defend us – this – to your uncle and your sister too, I will.”

Sokka sits back a bit, letting out a deep exhale.

Zuko is watching him, forehead furrowed, like he’s waiting for Sokka to explain himself further. Which, Sokka would be happy to do, if he had an answer himself.

The canoe is spinning again, and by the time Zuko seems to decide that Sokka isn’t going to say anything else, they’ve spun in at least three complete circles. “Well, it’s not like we’re going to be together for _that_ long. So, even if there is drama, it won’t be permanent.”

There’s something that sounds like sadness in Zuko’s voice when he says that, and when Sokka meets his gaze, its lingering in his eyes too. And _that_ won’t do.

“Still,” Sokka says, forcing a grin, “It’s not like we’re ever _not_ going to be best friends. Fake relationship or not, you’re stuck with me forever.”

Zuko grimaces and groans dramatically. “Is there still time to get out of this?”

Sokka huffs, offended, and Zuko laughs, and the tension that had settled over the spinning canoe seems to float away with the breeze.

That tension _quickly_ returns, when Katara and Aang sneak up on them, and Katara finds it necessary to splash them with ice water because, _why have they been floating in one place for so long, they’re supposed to be observing the theoretical lights, not making out._

Sokka _tries_ to be angry, but Zuko almost instantly pulls him in for a hug to warm him up and, when they’re safely back on shore, keeps his arm tightly around Sokka’s waist, despite the fact that they’re both fully dry. He doesn’t let go, not even when they’re wandering down the hall by themselves, the rest of the group behind closed doors.

That has to mean something.

When they get back to Sokka’s room, for the first time, they crawl into bed _without_ Sokka making some sort of crude joke.

“Night, Sokka,” Zuko says into the dark, and unlike the past two nights, he doesn’t turn to face the opposite direction, his body instead angled slightly towards Sokka.

“Night, Zuko,” Sokka whispers back, and the sleepy smile that he gets in response, even though Zuko’s eyes are already closed, nearly makes Sokka’s heart stop.

There’s something about it that feels like the start of something – like something brand new, something fragile. Delicate. But, as Sokka turns to lay completely on his side, facing Zuko and yawning into his pillow, it feels less like a beginning, and more like he’s finally caught up to something that’s always been there, waving its arms and waiting for him to notice it. Sokka closes his eyes, just as he feels the gentle, unconscious nudging of toes at his ankle.

 _Please_ , he thinks, right before sleep washes over him, _please let me not be misreading this_.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends! 
> 
> we're at the halfway point!! that's insane!! it feels like i was JUST furiously outlining this story in detail at four in the morning, and now here we are, halfway through that very outline! 
> 
> thank you all so much for your support of me and this fic! love you all, every comment that you leave makes my heart all warm and fuzzy and mushy and i proceed to think about them for several days afterwards.


	6. seal my fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello!! in between last chapter and this one, i did a fun little rewrite of the NWT embassy scene from zuko's POV. you can read that **[here](https://fruitysokka.tumblr.com/post/636246640348545024/pov-for-sth-in-breakable-heaven-from-zukos)**

Sokka hasn’t forgotten. The reality of the situation they were in – what’s at stake – has never left his mind. Not really.

Azula and Iroh arrive tomorrow. His birthday is in four days. And the elders _still_ haven’t “checked in” to offer him their “observations.” Whatever that means.

So, Sokka _knows_ that they aren’t exactly out of the woods. The feeling of _something_ lurking over his shoulder is still very much a constant.

But it has faded, a bit, over the past week. The disapproving glares of whichever elder had been saddled with watching them had still stung, but it had started to feel less gut-wrenching and more annoying. Painful, definitely. But not unbearable.

The sting of their disapproval hurt, but it was easy to forget it when it was masked by a gentle squeeze of his hand, a casual kiss to his cheek, or a much _less_ casual kiss, encouraged by their taunting friends.

It’s almost easier, Sokka thinks, to imagine that the whole thing is real, that the silent looming threat hanging over them is worth it because it’s all leading up to something. That the awkwardness, the fear, the lingering sense of guilt – all of it, all of it is _worth_ it, because it’s inevitable in the face of what he and Zuko are to each other – of what they stand to become.

But just as a part of Sokka hasn’t _really_ forgotten about the ever-present judgment of the elders, an even smaller part has been constantly reminding him that this isn’t a _real_ battle. That it’s all just theoretical. An escape plan that he’d hatched in a moment of panic, only because he hadn’t had a moment to think of anything smarter.

(Sokka is wondering, now, if it might have been the smartest thing he’s ever done in his life: throwing caution to the wind and expecting Zuko to catch him. Because – well – he _had_. There is nothing theoretical about the fact that when Sokka decided to fling himself off a cliff, Zuko rolled his eyes, grabbed his hand, and followed him down.)

But it isn’t real. Sokka _knows_ that. Whatever suspicions he does have about Zuko maybe, _maybe_ liking him back are just that – suspicions. Suspicions which he does plan to keep probing at, obviously. But he isn’t trying to get his hopes up. Because he knows – he _knows_ – that even if his suspicions are correct, the rest of it (the judgement, the fight, the constant efforts to _prove_ themselves) is something that Zuko hadn’t even signed up for in theory, let alone in reality. So. For now, at least, Sokka remembers to remind himself that it isn’t real.

But.

It’s so, _so_ simple, to let that truth fade from his mind in moments like this one.

Sokka is sitting on the ground, leaning backwards on his elbows. In front of him, Zuko and Katara are sizing each other up, their hands raised in pre-battle stance, waiting to see who strike will first. Suki and Ty Lee are sitting near him, chatting with each other and paying no attention to the fight about to start. Aang and Toph – recovering from their battle a few minutes previously – are at odds. Aang is shouting encouragement at both Zuko and Katara, unable to pick a side, and Toph, also indecisive, is heckling them both. 

Sokka, his eyes following the lines of Zuko’s back muscles as he and Katara circle each other, is uncharacteristically silent. Well, out loud at least. Zuko’s hair is pulled back into a low bun, loose strands framing his face, but leaving the entirety of his back in full view of Sokka’s intent gaze. So. Sokka’s thoughts are…less than quiet.

They’re all in the small courtyard that Sokka had _insisted_ be built, after Zuko had shown him the one _he_ used for dual dao practice in the Fire Nation palace. Sokka had helpfully explained to Hakoda that he absolutely needed something similar, to practice his swordsmanship (and for Katara to have a private waterbending space – obviously).

More often than not, when multiple of their friends were visiting at once, it ended up a bit more like this.

“I don’t know why you bother; you _know_ I’m more powerful than you in the literal South Pole,” Katara taunts, slowly stepping to her right, her eyes trained on Zuko’s movements, “Need I remind you how it went when you tried to fight me in the North Pole?”

“Sure, you’re powerful when the full moon is out,” Zuko agrees, “But considering we’re in constant daylight hours here, I’m _pretty_ sure that I have the advantage.”

“Big words from a firebender in an environment made up entirely of water,” Toph shouts from the sidelines. 

Zuko shoots her a look. “I thought you were on _my_ side.”

“I have no idea where you got that impression. I’m on no one’s side,” Toph corrects him. Then, as though to prove her point, she adds, “Katara, you’re doing a _lot_ of talking and not a lot of fighting. Seems like you’re stalling ‘cause you’re scared of getting your ass beat.”

Katara yelps indignantly, turning to glare at Toph with her hands on her hips. “I am _not_.”

Zuko takes advantage of Katara’s moment of distraction and darts forward and – with a swift, low kick – sweeps her legs out from under her.

“What the fuck, that’s _cheating_!” Katara yells from the ground, over almost everyone’s laughter. (Aang has a hand over his mouth and is suspiciously silent).

“Not my fault you weren’t paying attention,” Zuko responds, squatting back into a defensive stance.

“This is meant to be a _bending_ duel,” Katara reminds him, glaring as she stands back up, “You’re not supposed to use non-bending fighting techniques.”

“Says who?”

“Says –” Katara sputters,“– I don’t know. Shut up. It’s not fair.”

“You know,” Sokka says from the sideline, “If any of you would _listen_ to _my_ ideas, then there would be very simple rules that you could all follow to ensure that disagreements like this don’t happen –”

“Not this again,” Suki mutters to herself. Sokka barrels on.

“What? Listen – Toph. Literal Earth Rumble legend. Back me up here. Wouldn’t bending fights with _all_ elements be popular?”

Toph hums thoughtfully. “Not as popular as Earth Rumble. Earth bending is clearly superior.”

“ _No it’s not_ ,” Katara, Zuko, and Aang say in unison.

Toph smirks. “Then why did I just kick the Avatar’s ass?”

“You did not –”

“The bruise on your ass says otherwise, Twinkle Toes.”

“There is _not_ –”

“This feels _exactly_ like the kind of argument that could be solved through well-regulated, professional bending battles,” Sokka shouts over them, earning groans from almost the entire group.

Zuko though – Zuko grins. “You know, that’s not a _terrible_ idea.”

Sokka grins back. “I knew it. You’re the only one here who loves me at _all_.” Zuko’s face goes bright red at that, which, well. Obviously Sokka’s going to keep going. Sitting up, (and quietly noting the way that Zuko seems almost transfixed, watching him), he adds, “Hear me out. I think that it should be like – _teams_. A waterbender, a firebender, and an earthbender on each team. And I think –”

The rest of Sokka’s sentence is cut off by Zuko’s angry yell, Katara’s loud laugh, and the sound of massive amounts of water splashing against stone.

A second later, everyone _else_ yelps and scurries backwards away from the minor tidal wave Katara had just dropped on Zuko’s head.

“What the _fuck_ –” a now drenched Zuko starts to yell, falling silent at the look on Katara’s face.

“You weren’t paying attention,” she mocks, “I win. Since that was _actual_ bending.”

“Whatever,” Zuko pouts, “Your turn, Toph.”

“Oh, let’s _go_.”

Zuko flings himself down next to Sokka, still pouting. His clothes are already dry – Sokka can practically feel the heat radiating off of him – but his hair is still slightly damp, a few strands of his dark hair stuck to his forehead. “Your sister is annoying.”

“I’m aware,” Sokka acknowledges, elbowing him. “So, anyways. About the professional bending competitions – what do you think about matching uniforms?”

Zuko gives him an exhausted look. “What?”

“Matching uniforms, for bending teams,” Sokka elaborates, and, with the air of poking a platypus-bear directly in the face, adds, his voice elevated enough that at least Suki and Ty Lee will hear him, with a pinch to Zuko’s hip, “I’m thinking tight pants. What do you think, baby?”

Zuko goes pink and something flashes in his expression – Sokka’s not sure what, exactly, but it’s somewhere between competitive and affectionate – and Sokka feels his heart rate pick up.

They’d been doing this – trying to one-up each other, in terms of public displays of affection, while in front of friends. Or at least, that’s what Sokka _thinks_ is happening, because Zuko always looks moderately annoyed but there’s also a splash of _fondness_ in his eyes that Sokka really doesn’t know what to do with.

Sokka can see the challenge – and the affection – in Zuko’s eyes when he reaches forward and grabs Sokka’s face, smooshing his cheeks.

“I _think_ you should stop.”

Sokka attempts to stick his tongue out, but Zuko is squishing his cheeks too tightly. So, instead, he turns his head enough that his lips are against one of Zuko’s hands, winks at him, and presses a kiss there. He watches as Zuko’s cheeks shift from pink to red. Watches as his eyes go all soft and _tender_.

And Sokka panics a bit, his mouth still against Zuko’s skin, where he’s almost certain he can _feel_ Zuko’s flush.

The hint of challenge in Zuko’s eyes is gone. And that’s – not something Sokka is prepared to deal with right at this moment, so –

Sokka licks Zuko’s palm and, when Zuko jerks his hands away in surprise, freeing his mouth, whispers, “ _Make me_.”

Zuko goes even redder at that, and the look he’s giving Sokka makes his heart race slightly and –

“ _Spirits_ , can you two get a room if you’re going to act like that?”

Ty Lee’s exclamation – and the responding laughter – momentarily breaks the spell that has fallen over the two of them. Or, at least it does for Zuko, who turns away from him. Sokka is still a bit preoccupied with the way Zuko’s hands had felt against his cheeks.

“Like you two aren’t practically intertwined right now,” Zuko says, rolling his eyes in her direction.

Ty Lee, from her place on Suki’s lap, sticks her tongue out. “I’m just _saying_ , if you’re going to progress to the step that comes after _make me_ , go find a private corner.”

“We’ll save it for later,” Zuko says, throwing an arm over Sokka, and it’s so casual that – once again – Sokka’s mind lets itself ease into the fantasy of it all. He lets himself, for just a minute, lean into Zuko’s side, close his eyes, and listen to Katara and Toph hurl friendly insults at each other.

And then reality strikes, quicker than lightning, leaving every nerve in Sokka’s body standing straight up.

“Sokka?”

They all look up in surprise – Katara, hands still raised in the air, lets the water she was bending splash to the ground – and find Hakoda standing at the edge of the courtyard. The expression on his face is anxious and – Sokka’s stomach drops – apologetic.

“Dad? What’s wrong?”

It’s Katara who asks, which Sokka is grateful for – he’s pretty sure he knows, and that knowledge has left his mouth dry and his voice momentarily unusable.

Hakoda looks for a moment like he’s going to say that nothing is wrong but thinks better of it. Instead, he says, “The council is ready to provide their observations on –” he pauses, making eye contact with Sokka, who is still tucked under Zuko’s arm – “On the two of you.”

And really, does it matter – what’s real and what isn’t? Would it have stopped the sinking feeling in Sokka’s stomach, if this was real? Would Zuko still have gripped his shoulders tightly in response to Hakoda’s words? Did he do that to comfort Sokka because he _wanted_ to, or because it makes sense – because it’s what their friends would _expect_ him to do?

Sokka is seriously starting to doubt that there’s any point in trying to draw a distinction.

“Sokka – are you okay?”

Hakoda is watching him, concerned. He seriously needs to get better at remembering to respond to people.

“I’m fine,” Sokka says, sliding out from under Zuko’s arm and standing up. He reaches a hand down to Zuko, who takes it willingly, letting Sokka pull him to his feet. “Is it – are we meeting them _now_?”

“Yes.” Hakoda grimaces. “They called the meeting five minutes ago.”

“Wonderful,” Sokka mutters, “They really love the whole _spontaneity_ factor, don’t they?”

“It’s ridiculous,” Katara declares, “Like they’re trying to catch you off guard – well, I’ll be making it _clear_ that they need to cut that shit out –”

“You’ll be doing no such thing,” Hakoda interrupts.

Oh no.

“Are you telling me I’m not allowed to go to the meeting _again_?”

Katara’s across the courtyard in half a second and, despite being a good foot shorter than Hakoda, manages to make him shrink back in surprise.

“Katara –”

“No, I’m sick of this. They get to call them in and _insult_ them, and none of us are even allowed to _attempt_ to defend them?”

“We don’t know that their observations are going to be negative,” Hakoda says, though it’s clear from the edge in his voice that he’s trying to convince himself of that, as well as them.

Katara scoffs. “Why should any of us believe _that_?”

“This isn’t a decision-making meeting,” Hakoda says, focusing his gaze on Sokka, “They made that clear. This is just a check in – no definite decisions, one way or the other, will be made until after your birthday.”

“His birthday is in _four days_ ,” Katara points out, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, “Are you seriously telling me there’s going to be some massive change of opinion in _four_ days?”

“I don’t know,” Hakoda answers honestly, “But delaying the council for too long isn’t going to help with –”

The rest of his sentence is cut off by a loud groan of anger from Katara.

“If they try to say that I’m not allowed in the final meeting, I’m showing up anyways. I don’t _care_.”

Hakoda looks for a moment like he’s going to argue, but nods. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Katara repeats, looking around at the group briefly, as though silently asking them to vouch for her, if the issue comes up again. “Well, Aang at least –”

“Aang isn’t invited to this,” Hakoda interrupts, “It’s just the council, Sokka, and Zuko.”

Sokka isn’t sure if the more intimate assembly is comforting or alarming. Had the council shrunken the guest list because this was an ultimately inconsequential meeting, or because they didn’t want the Avatar or other ambassadors to hear what they had to say?

Katara looks away from Hakoda, fixing her eyes on Sokka and Zuko. “Are _you_ okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sokka says, just as Zuko answers, “It’s okay, Katara.”

Katara’s eyes narrow, but she nods. “Okay.” She turns back to Hakoda and adds, “I am _in_ the next meeting.”

Despite his reassurance to Katara, it’s not fine.

As the anxiety starts to set in, time feels slightly fuzzy. Their friends awkwardly patting their shoulders, murmuring reassurances and promises that everything will be fine, as they file out of the courtyard feels like it takes hours. At the same time, it seems like only a second has passed, once the courtyard is empty of anyone but Sokka, Zuko, and Hakoda. Sokka can’t be sure which version is closest to reality.

But, when Hakoda asks if they’re ready to go, and Zuko grabs Sokka’s hand and tugs him forward, Sokka can almost feel the earth start to spin again.

* * *

When they reach the council chambers, Sokka has no desire to let go of Zuko’s hand and, it seems, based on the strong grip Zuko has on him, that it’s a shared feeling. So, they follow Hakoda into the chambers, fingers still intertwined tightly – so tightly, that even the shock of two unexpected additions to the assembled group doesn’t manage to separate them.

“What are they doing here?” Sokka mutters under his breath, for Zuko alone to hear.

Ambassador Kedinuk and _Veya_ are sitting at the ambassador table, Veya in Ambassador Guan’s usual seat. Kedinuk is staring blankly into space – he hadn’t even looked up at their entrance. Veya, who has _definitely_ noticed their arrival, looks anxious. Sokka’s stomach drops when she meets his eyes – it’s clear that she’s trying to communicate _something_ in her gaze, but Sokka doesn’t know what. He just assumes that whatever it is, it isn’t good.

Zuko doesn’t answer, other than to bite his lip and frown. Sokka nudges him with his shoulder. “Zuko?”

“I don’t know,” Zuko says finally, not looking over at Sokka. His eyes are on Hakoda, who has since sat down, _his_ eyes trained on Ambassador Kedinuk, “But I imagine that we’ll find out soon enough.” He doesn’t sound nervous, like Sokka feels, but _irritated_. Bitter.

“Zuko –”

“You should go sit down. Let’s get this over with.”

Zuko squeezes his hand – which reassures Sokka that whatever anger he’s feeling isn’t directed at _him_ – then drops it, walks over and drops into Aang’s usual chair, leaving an empty seat between him and Kedinuk. Sokka stares after him for a moment, then shakes his head and goes to take his seat next to Hakoda.

“Any clue what –” Sokka starts to ask quietly, but Hakoda interrupts him, without turning his head.

“I have a guess.”

Sokka raises his eyebrows. “And are you going to…inform me of what that guess is?”

Hakoda looks at him then – he’s frowning. “I think –”

“What exactly are we waiting for, Chief Hakoda?”

They both look up to find Councilman Sorrok glaring, from his place at the council table. Sokka has to bite his tongue to stop himself from snapping. There were generally _some_ rules of decorum to be followed in the council setting. The angry set of Sorrok’s mouth makes it clear to Sokka that, apparently, those rules have been thrown out the proverbial window.

Any vague hope Sokka had held onto at the idea of the elders’ observations leading to a _positive_ assessment vanish in an instant.

Hakoda, unlike Sokka, doesn’t have to hold his tongue. “As always, we are waiting for _me_ to call the meeting to order, Councilman Sorrok.”

Sorrok opens his mouth, as though to argue, but thinks better of it and leans back in his chair. He nods.

Hakoda takes a breath, then says, to the room at large, “Thank you to everyone for meeting on such short notice.” He pauses for a moment – eyes lingering on the ambassador table, on Kedinuk (and how _had_ he and Veya gotten here so quickly, if they’d had as much notice as Sokka and Zuko had been given?) – then continues. “As Councilman Koatas was the one who proposed that we meet immediately, I will give him the floor.”

Koatas stays in his seat. “Chief Hakoda, I and the rest of the council feel that our usual meeting format might – ah – be a bit awkward of an arrangement for this particular presentation.”

Hakoda frowns. “In what way?”

“We assume,” Koatas starts, and Sokka doesn’t miss Bato’s eye roll at the word _we_ , which very clearly did not include him, “That the discussion following the presentation of our observations will be fast-paced, and the constant switching of speakers would be unproductive.”

Sokka hopes that it’s not audible when he gulps at that.

“Fine,” Hakoda says, but the uneasiness in his voice is unmistakable. “You may present from your seat.”

“Thank you,” Koatas says.

His tone is polite, but Sokka can see the animosity in his expression. Sokka’s shoulders tense, and it feels eerily similar to the moment right before a physical fight.

Koatas clears his throat, looking around the room, his eyes not landing on anyone for more than half a second, then focuses on a piece of parchment in front of him. In a clipped, rehearsed voice, he reads, “Last week, after much time was spent carefully and thoughtfully preparing a proposal to have Sokka, next in line for Chief, enter into a marriage with a partner suitable for the role, we were informed that Sokka had already found his own partner. However, the suitability of said partner –” he pauses, and looks briefly at Zuko, “– was called into question by multiple members of the council, for a variety of reasons. After a discussion between the council, several ambassadors to the Southern Water Tribe, the Avatar, and Sokka himself, a decision was made that Sokka and his chosen partner would be allowed to attempt to prove the suitability of said partner, during a period of time decided upon by the council. The council stated that we would provide an update on our observations before the end of this period. The end date is four days from today so, in accordance with our original agreement, the council will now provide our observations.”

Koatas stops there, and turns to Councilman Sorrok, who nods politely before picking up where Sorrok left off.

“During our period of observation thus far, the council has been specifically looking for indications that Ambassador Zuko would be both a suitable partner in an overall sense, and that allowing this relationship to proceed would be worth the risk that he inherently poses.”

Hakoda grabs Sokka’s shoulder and shoves him back into his seat before he even realizes that he had started to stand.

Sorrok spares a patronizing glance in Sokka’s direction, then continues.

“As of right now, we have found that Sokka and Ambassador Zuko work well together as a pair, and that we as a council have no particular grievances in regard to the stability of their relationship.”

There’s a long pause and Sokka can hear the _but_ in the silence. Hakoda’s grip on his shoulder tightens.

“However,” Councilman Vinoq jumps in, and Sokka wonders how far from _last minute_ this meeting actually is, “It is important, when considering a partnership that is first and foremost political, to weigh all of the risks and benefits. And although we have found no major faults in Ambassador Zuko as an individual, the potential threats associated with his background are both distinct and unavoidable.”

“Hey –” Sokka starts, standing up, but Hakoda pushes him back down.

Councilman Vinoq fixes him with a stern look. “If you’ll allow us to finish before interrupting.”

Sokka glares, but keeps his mouth shut.

“Thank you. As I was saying, while Ambassador Zuko is, himself, not an immediate problem, there is nothing to say that he will not become one in the future. Ambassador Zuko is, before anything else, the prince of the Fire Nation. Although his tenure as an ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe has been peaceful, there is no definitive way that we can prove that he is trustworthy enough to allow this relationship to progress.” Vinoq makes eye contact with Sokka, and says, “As future Chief, the safety, wellbeing, and continued growth of the tribe should be your _first_ priority. Your _only_ priority. We have determined that a partnership as we had originally planned – for example, with Veya of the Northern Water Tribe – would be, as we originally thought, the best way forward.”

Sokka can feel eyes burning into the side of his head – _knows_ intuitively that it’s Veya staring – but he can’t bring himself to look.

He focuses instead on Koatas as he finishes, “This is not a formal decision – that will happen the day after your birthday, barring any extenuating circumstances – however, the council finds it unlikely that the conclusion we have drawn will change.”

The silence that stretches over the room feels heavy, _sticky_ – Sokka is reminded vividly of the swamp, of the thick feeling of warm, muggy pressure on every inch of his skin. He wouldn’t be completely surprised at the appearance of a swamp monster in the council chambers. He’s not sure much of anything could surprise him, at this point.

No one seems to know what to say. Sokka lets himself look towards the ambassador table but refuses to meet Veya’s insistent gaze – his eyes find Zuko instead. Zuko is doing a good job of keeping his face purposefully blank, until their eyes meet. Sokka sees the moment his mask falters – the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, the way that his shoulders tighten, ever so slightly. Sokka looks away, for both of their sake.

When Koatas has, apparently, decided that the quiet has gone on long enough, he clears his throat loudly and adds, “If anyone has any comments, now would be the time.”

To everyone’s surprise, Ambassador Kedinuk speaks first.

“Am I to take this as _formal_ confirmation that the council has chosen Veya over the potential Earth Kingdom candidates?”

“Formal?” Hakoda questions, echoing the same confusion resounding in Sokka’s mind.

Sorrok coughs. “ _Nothing_ is confirmed, as of this moment. However, the majority of the council is in agreement that a partnership between Sokka and Veya – one that would continue to strengthen the bond between the Southern and Northern Water Tribes – would be the most beneficial, overall.”

“When exactly did we agree on that?” Bato interjects.

“Conversations were had –” Sorrok starts, but Hakoda cuts him off.

“It _seems_ ,” Hakoda says firmly, “That discussions concerning the entire council were had outside of, and without the knowledge of, the entirety _of_ the council. I certainly _hope_ that this isn’t the case.”

“You misunderstand,” Sorrok says, though there’s something in his tone that makes Sokka believe otherwise, “I’m referring only to conversations that were had as an entire council. It was my understanding that we had come to the conclusion that of the potential matches we had explored, this one – the one that would further link together our sister tribes – was the best of the available options.”

Sokka turns to look at Hakoda, but he doesn’t meet his gaze. Instead, with his gaze still fixed on Sorrok, Hakoda says emphatically, “That was a misinterpretation on your part, Councilman. No definite decisions were ever made, even informally.”

Sorrok twitches at that, and out of the corner of his eye, Sokka sees Kedinuk’s neutral expression become a glare, but neither of them say anything. There’s something that Sokka isn’t being told. Probably _a lot_ of things, if he thinks about it. But, for now –

“None of that matters at this exact moment though, does it?” Sokka interjects, taking advantage of the stony silence, “Because this meeting is also about _informal_ decisions. Not official ones. Right?”

What he _wants_ to say is that they can all shove it up their asses, but he’s going to _try_ to keep it professional. To start, at least.

“As we said,” Koatas answers, “Although the official decision will not be made until the end of this week, it is highly doubtful that anything will change our minds before that date. So, I think it’s entirely pertinent to have the discussion of moving forward with –”

“No it’s not,” Sokka cuts him off. Koatas opens his mouth to argue, but Sokka acts as though he hasn’t seen him and continues. “If you have made an _official decision_ ,” he makes a point of emphasizing that phrase, “Then say that. If you haven’t, then I think should be allowed to speak on why exactly your observations so far are _wrong_.”

Koatas, again, looks as though he’s going to argue, but before he can get a word out, Bato says, “Please, go ahead Sokka. You have just as much of a right to speak on this matter as anyone else in this room.”

Sokka gives him a weak smile and, for reasons unbeknownst to him, stands up. His legs are shaky, so he doesn’t move from behind the table, but there’s something slightly steadying about moving out of his seat. His mind attempts to run through fifteen different theoretical statements at once, but the only thing clearly echoing through the mess is that what the council had said, about Zuko, isn’t _true_. And whatever happens – whether Zuko liked him too or not – Sokka needs _that_ to be known.

“Thank you, Bato,” Sokka says, taking a deep breath, “And thank you to the rest of the council for putting so much – um – thought into this presentation. I appreciate the coordination that must’ve had to happen to get everyone here in time – including Ambassador Kedinuk.”

It’s not an accusation, per say. More of a question, because _something_ wasn’t quite adding up about his and Veya’s presence. Other than Sorrok’s forehead slightly furrowing, no one responds or reacts in a way that lends credibility to Sokka’s non-accusation.

“So, anyways,” Sokka continues, “While I understand and respect the effort that was put into your observations and recognize the logic behind the conclusions you have drawn, I have to argue that you’re just – you’re wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Koatas interrupts.

Sokka raises his eyebrows. “I feel like that was a pretty straightforward statement, though I am _happy_ to elaborate.” Hakoda groans quietly to his right but, other than that, no one responds, so Sokka keeps going. “You’re right to say that it’s difficult to trust the Fire Nation – I’m not arguing with that. However, you and I both know that Ambassador Zuko, that Fire Lord Iroh – that the Fire Nation of today is _not_ the Fire Nation of the past. I know Fire Lord Iroh. I _know_ Ambassador Zuko. Neither of them would ever harm the Southern Water Tribe, I’m certain of that.”

“Sokka, you have a strong personal relationship with Ambassador Zuko and Fire Lord Iroh,” Vinoq says, when no one else responds, “And while I don’t doubt that you have a good judge of character, those personal relationships with _two_ citizens of the Fire Nation are not enough to judge their longstanding commitment to peace. In fact, the fact that you _do_ hold such close relationships with members of the Fire Nation, in my opinion, throws into question your capability of being objective about the facts of this matter.”

“The character of the _Fire Lord_ isn’t enough to ensure peace?” Sokka doesn’t mean to sound bratty, but he knows that’s how it comes out, based on the fact that Hakoda lets out a rough sigh and Vinoq’s eyes narrow in response.

“Well, now –” Vinoq sputters.

“What Sokka means,” Hakoda says over his stuttering, “Is that the fact that the head of state of the Fire Nation is dedicated to peace is likely a fairly strong indicator that the nation as a whole is also committed to that peace. And it’s not just Sokka that trusts Fire Lord Iroh and Ambassador Zuko. I would trust both of them with my life – I _have_ trusted Ambassador Zuko with my life, when he was just a teenager – and I would certainly trust him to hold an important leadership role here in the South.”

“I completely agree,” Bato adds, before any of the other councilmen can interrupt him, “I don’t know Fire Lord Iroh as well as Chief Hakoda does, and certainly not as well as Sokka does, but from what I’ve gathered, he is a trustworthy man dedicated to undoing the harm done by his ancestors. And Ambassador Zuko has been nothing _but_ exemplary in his role as ambassador.”

Bato and Hakoda both look at Zuko then, and the smile he gives them is faint, but fond.

“I think you’re both fools,” Koatas spits out, “Do you hear yourselves? Bato – you speak of the Fire Lord’s _ancestors_ , as though his own _brother_ – who still lives – was not on the throne, terrorizing and killing, just six years ago. Hakoda – you act as though the actions of a teenager can make up for a century of bloodshed – can make up for the losses _we have_ felt. The losses that _you_ have felt, personally. Surely, you haven’t forgotten Ky–”

Hakoda stands, and Sokka feels suddenly very small next to him, despite the fact that they’re nearly the same height. Sokka sinks back into his seat.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Hakoda growls, “Don’t you dare imply that I’ve _forgotten_ what happened to Kya. Don’t even speak her name.”

Koatas gulps, though no form of apology appears on his face when he says, “Forgive me, Chief Hakoda. That was out of line.”

“You’re damn right it was,” Hakoda says, still fuming. He sits back down, and Sokka stands again.

“No one is suggesting that we forget what the Fire Nation has done,” Sokka says slowly, waiting to see if someone will interrupt him. No one does. “However, if we’re talking about trying to strengthen political alliances – about trying to protect and foster growth in the South – shouldn’t we be _trying_ to build a relationship with the Fire Nation? Isn’t _that_ a better way to ensure our safety?”

Sorrok is watching Sokka, his head tilted almost – curiously? He doesn’t look _angry_ at least, and that’s almost unnerving, but Sokka feels a surge of hope rise in his chest. Had that somehow swayed him?

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Kedinuk scoffs out of nowhere, and the interest on Sorrok’s face disappears.

“ _What’s_ ridiculous?” Sokka demands, turning towards Kedinuk. Veya is looking nervously between the two of them, and Zuko has his eyes fixed on Sokka which, makes Sokka’s stomach swoop anxiously more than it reassures him.

“Your attitude,” Kedinuk answers flatly, glaring at Sokka. “There are many things about the way that the Southern Water Tribe conducts their politics that completely baffle me, but the fashion in which you and your sister are allowed to conduct yourself absolutely blows any of the rest of it out of the water. There is no way that an heir to the chiefdom would behave this way in the Northern Water Tribe, especially within a council setting –”

“I’m not an _heir_ ,” Sokka interrupts, “And this isn’t the Northern Water Tribe.”

“That much,” Kedinuk answers with a scowl, “Is clear. Which is why, as I _thought_ was decided or at least understood, the most beneficial partnership that you can enter into would be with Veya. Strengthening the connection between our two tribes is something that is _clearly_ necessary, if the South is interested in making a name for herself on the world stage. Veya, being from the Northern Water Tribe, understands the importance of _duty_ , which is clearly not something _you’re_ familiar with.”

Sokka _feels_ anger rush up inside of him, but he can’t bring himself to speak. He’s finally allowed himself to look at Veya properly, and the nervous set of her mouth, the wide, unabashed sadness in her eyes had sent Sokka’s mind reeling backwards six years – to an icy bridge, to the North Pole, to a warm, grassy oasis, and to another girl who had understood the importance of duty. And Sokka feels so, suddenly overwhelmed that instead of answering, he falls back into his seat.

Hakoda grasps Sokka’s arm briefly, then says, “The North and South are sisters, but they are not the same, Ambassador Kedinuk. The implication of your words – that you don’t understand the difference between distinctions and faults - has me seriously reconsidering whether or not you are the appropriate person to serve as ambassador to the South.”

Kedinuk stiffens at that. “I meant no offense, Chief Hakoda. Merely that over the past six years, the North has played a large role in the rebuilding of the tribe and that perhaps, cultural influence, as well as architectural, might be beneficial to your continued progress. The fact that this is an argument is happening at all is disquieting. That Sokka felt that his relationship would be acceptable is concerning. And after all, if it weren’t for Northern contribution, we’d be having this argument in a tent.”

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?”

Yep. Sokka’s voice is back.

“ _Sokka_ –”

“Sokka’s right.”

The room falls silent, and all eyes are on Zuko who has, for the first time since the meeting started, spoken.

“He’s right,” Zuko repeats, voice wavering slightly, “That was a completely unacceptable thing to say, Ambassador Kedinuk. Just because the Southern Water Tribe didn’t have the resources that the North did until recently, that doesn’t mean –”

“I’m sorry,” Ambassador Kedinuk interrupts, leaning forward to glare at Zuko over Veya, “Exactly _whose_ fault is it that the South didn’t have proper resources, Ambassador Zuko?”

Zuko doesn’t flinch. “The Fire Nation is responsible for the decimation of resources in the South. I’ve never denied that, and I never would. That doesn’t give _you_ an excuse to insult them.”

“That’s, well –” Kedinuk stutters, “– that’s far from the point of this conversation.” Kedinuk looks away from Zuko, though Zuko doesn’t stop glaring at him. Kedinuk turns towards the council and says, “Whether or not Ambassador Zuko might be a _feasible_ choice, he is certainly not a _good_ choice, and certainly not the most beneficial choice. His background, his – the _type_ of abnormal relationship that they are in – ”

“Just out of curiosity,” Sokka interjects, “Does _my_ opinion on who I think would be a good partner, for _me_ , matter at all in this conversation?”

“It does,” Vinoq answers, surprising the sardonic look off of Sokka’s face, “As we said during our first meeting, Sokka, our major concern is with Ambassador Zuko’s nationality, not with his gender. If Veya’s gender is a nonstarter, then I am certain that arrangements could be made. It is not an ideal situation, however –”

Sokka knows that Vinoq keeps speaking after that – he can hear him, distantly, over the very sudden ringing in his ears. He isn’t listening though – he’s not even trying to distinguish Vinoq’s words from the haze of sound. Sokka’s eyes are drawn, like gravity, to Zuko. Of course, Zuko's already looking at him. The bitterness from before the meeting, the anger at Ambassador Kedinuk – it’s all gone, replaced by the warm, slightly nervous smile that Sokka realizes, in that moment, is only ever directed at him. Despite the fact that he’s been sitting there, being _insulted_ for what feels like an hour. Despite the fact that, at that very moment, the councilmen are patiently explaining every possible way that the idea of him, of _them_ , can be avoided. Despite all of that – Sokka looks his way, and Zuko smiles.

Sokka had thought, in that first council meeting, that his insistence that they keep the charade going was because he wanted to have a choice to, one day, pick someone – anyone – that he wanted. And that wasn’t untrue. It’s just that now, hearing Vinoq say that they could be flexible, and find someone _else_ , that he properly processes that he doesn’t _want_ that. He wants – well.

Sokka isn’t entirely sure what to call the feeling rising in his chest, the longer he doesn’t listen to the conversation happening around him. The longer he watches Zuko. He knows though, that it’s overwhelming, and he knows that when he gets overwhelmed, he tends to say something stupid.

“I’m sure that there is a Northern Water tribe _man_ who could fit –”

Yeah. Nope.

Before he can really think about what he’s doing, Sokka stands and walks (as quickly as he can without breaking into a run) out of the council chambers.

* * *

Sokka isn’t sure where to go. His first thought is the courtyard, but even though he had _told_ Katara and the rest of the group to leave, he doesn’t trust that they actually did, or that they wouldn’t be waiting for him. As much as he loves them, he doesn’t feel like he’s able to face them in this moment. He considers going to hide in his bedroom, but he knows that that’s the first place his dad will look, and he _definitely_ doesn’t want to talk to his dad right now. Plus, he feels a little bit like he is about to suffocate, and the idea of staying indoors too much longer seems like more than he can tolerate.

Sokka half sprints towards the front doors, pushing them open and letting the cold air wash over his face. His breathing calms slightly – and he realizes that he had been close to hyperventilating. Wonderful.

He takes the stairs two at a time – it’s much quicker without Zuko clinging to his arm – and looks around at the square. There are a lot of people out, but none of them seem to notice his frazzled state. Or, if they do notice, they don’t particularly care, for which Sokka is grateful.

Still not certain _where_ he wants to go, Sokka begins to walk. And as he begins to walk, his mind starts to wander. Its first instinct is to think about Zuko, but Sokka pushes that subject away. It’s not that he’s avoiding it – he plans to think very deeply about it, later – but considering that it had sent him very close to the brink of a panic attack, he didn’t feel quite ready to deal with it in full.

Fuck. _Shit_.

Had he just started to have a panic attack in front of the council?

And then _stormed out of the room_?

“Fuck,” Sokka says out loud. An elderly woman passing by shoots him a glare. “Sorry,” he mumbles, long after she’s out of earshot.

Sokka squeezes his eyes shut and groans, tilting his head up to the sky. _How_ had he let his temper get the better of him like that?

He opens his eyes and finds the moon, still in crescent form, watching him lazily.

“I’m an idiot,” Sokka says to her. He can almost hear Yue’s giggle. “I know you know that, but I thought I’d remind you.”

Determined to not let the massive mental spiral that he can feel coming on hit while he’s still in view of other people, Sokka pushes his thoughts down until he reaches the edge of the water. He lets himself fall into the snow, not even bothering to try to sit up. If he’s going to have a breakdown, he might as well do it fully. He lays flat in the snow, letting himself process the cold, wet feeling against his back as refreshing and calming instead of gross. He keeps his eyes trained on the moon floating above him and lets his thoughts…hit.

Number one. He had a minor meltdown in front of the council. And his dad. And Veya. And Zuko.

Number two. He had _argued_ with…every member of the council and Ambassador Kedinuk.

Number three. He had realized…something about his feelings towards Zuko but, again, Sokka isn’t ready to get into that quite yet.

Sokka takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He doesn’t regret anything that he said – he could’ve phrased it less harshly, maybe, but the substance of his words wouldn’t have changed, had he been given more time to prepare (or had he been slightly calmer).

But despite that, Sokka realizes in the darkness behind his eyelids that the feeling that is washing over his body is _guilt_. And he knows exactly why.

Sokka opens his eyes again. Yue shines down on him.

Yue, who had understood duty.

Yue, who had apparently been more similar to him than he had thought.

Yue, who had _died_ to save the Northern Water Tribe. To save the _world_.

And here lays Sokka, in the snow, acting like a petulant child. Yue had actually, properly _been_ a child. And yet, it seems that she had a better understanding of her obligations to her tribe than Sokka ever would.

Sokka feels tears well up in his eyes and tries to blink them back. He fails, and reaches his sleeve up to wipe them away. Now he’s having a _tantrum_ like a child too, and –

“Sokka?”

If he’d been sitting up, Zuko’s voice would’ve made Sokka jump. Instead, he does a weird little twitch which, under any other circumstances, he’s certain Zuko would’ve laughed at.

Zuko just sits down next to him and gives him a concerned look, reaching out his hand.

Sokka takes it and lets Zuko pull him into a sitting position. “I’m,” Sokka starts, then stops. Unsure of how to continue.

“They adjourned the meeting,” Zuko says, answering a question that Sokka hadn’t asked (yet), “A few minutes after you left. You didn’t really miss anything.”

“Great,” Sokka mutters. He pulls his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and resting his chin on his knees, “Glad they didn’t spend too long discussing me acting like a toddler.”

“Sokka –”

“If you’re going to say that I _didn’t_ just make a complete fool of myself, spare me.”

Sokka groans internally. _Why_ is he snapping at Zuko of all people? Considering what he thinks he might’ve figured out, there’s no reason to lash out at _him_. He lifts his head from his knees, turning to Zuko with an apologetic expression, but forgets what he’s going to say when he sees the worry – not annoyance – on Zuko’s face.

“You had every reason to be angry,” Zuko says, “That was – I should’ve said _more_. I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

“Don’t be,” Sokka says seriously, “They spent that entire meeting attacking you. There’s no reason to add even _more_ reasons for them to hate you.” Zuko doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Sokka’s stomach sinks. “I don’t – I don’t think that they hate you, but –”

Zuko laughs, startling Sokka into silence. “They definitely hate me, but that’s –” Zuko pauses for a moment, looking away from Sokka and out at the water, “– a good boyfriend would’ve defended you more, so. I should have defended you more.”

“You did plenty,” Sokka insists, “More than plenty. _I’m_ sorry that I was so – you wouldn’t have needed to defend anything if I could’ve kept my shit together.”

Zuko looks back over at him, and his eyes are pained. “Sokka, I would be angry too. I _am_ angry, for you.”

The tiny, romantic voice in the back of Sokka’s head – the one that keeps realizing things – quietly replaces the end of Zuko’s sentence with _for us_. The rest of Sokka’s brain tries desperately not to dwell on that.

Sokka takes a deep breath. Part of him wants to tell Zuko about Yue, to tell him about the guilt and the shame and the _fear_ of what he thinks he wants, because Zuko is the person he _would_ tell these things to – under any other circumstances. But, given that Sokka is almost ninety-five percent sure that the thing he wants is sitting a few inches away from him, he keeps those particular thoughts to himself.

“It feels like,” Sokka groans exasperatedly, searching for the words, “It feels like they don’t trust me. It feels like Sokka, the single person, isn’t enough. It feels like _I’m_ not enough for the tribe, and like I can’t be trusted to make decisions on my own, because spirits, if I can’t even – if they don’t even trust me to pick who I’m in love with, then what _do_ they trust me with?”

“Sokka,” Zuko says quietly, “That’s not true at all.”

“You don’t know that,” Sokka mutters. 

Zuko reaches out and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together, and Sokka has to turn away. He’s pretty sure that if he makes eye contact with Zuko right now, he’ll burst into tears. 

“I know that you’re an incredible leader. I know how much you care about the Southern Water Tribe. I’ve seen how much of yourself that you put into this, not sleeping and forgetting to eat just so that you can finish some trade negotiation that could absolutely wait until morning – Sokka, you care more about your role as Chief than you do your own wellbeing.”

“I’m not Chief yet,” Sokka says, and he can tell, without looking, when Zuko shakes his head. Can feel the way that his hand moves slightly in his grip. 

“That’s exactly my point. If anyone doubts your commitment to the tribe, or your capability to fulfill that commitment, that’s _their_ problem. And for the record, I don’t think anyone does.”

Sokka exhales sharply, letting his eyes wander to their intertwined fingers, not quite ready to look at Zuko himself. “Then why are they...” he trails off, pauses. “I don’t understand how I’m allowed to make incredibly important decisions about like, war reparations, but it’s perfectly logical to have a spouse chosen for me. I mean, do they think I’m incapable of finding someone on my own? Do they think I need someone, or I won’t be able to be a proper Chief?”

“I don’t think it’s either of those things,” Zuko answers, slowly, “I think - well, Uncle says that marriage – his marriage anyways – was like a partnership. Having a person, who’s like, your person, that you can bounce ideas off of, that you can rant or can cry with, that just, gets you. No questions asked. He says that having that makes you a better leader, a better person, overall.” Zuko pauses for a moment, then adds, “He says he misses that, more than anything. When he was younger and knew he would be Fire Lord one day, that comforted him. The idea that he’d have my aunt, his person, by his side.” 

Sokka’s throat feels a little thick, his hand in Zuko’s almost heavy, but it’s practically effortless the way he meets Zuko’s eyes then, a small smile appearing on his lips. 

“What?” Zuko asks, giving him a puzzled look.

“I’m pretty sure that you’re my person,” Sokka says simply. Easily. It’s almost funny, how easy it is.

Zuko’s smile is cautious, but he squeezes Sokka’s hand. It’s overwhelming, but not uncomfortable, the way that Sokka’s heart swells in his chest. 

“Yeah,” Zuko says, “I’m pretty sure that you’re my person too.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO that chapter was a big one!!!! take a deep breath. i had to take many, and several laps around my house, and consume a lot of caffeine, and scream a little bit while writing it. anyone else feeling a little....brain foggy lately? this time of year, am i right.
> 
> anyways!!!! i hope you enjoyed this chapter!! we only have four chapters left!! i am, as always, endlessly grateful for the support and love that has been shown towards this story! reading your comments and interacting with y'all on social media (hit me up on **[twitter](https://https://twitter.com/alexndhenry)** or **[tumblr](https://fruitysokka.tumblr.com/)** ) has been so fun and i am so grateful for it!! seriously, y'all mean the world to me.
> 
> leave some comments, come chat with me on either of my socials, let me know what you think! and i will see you all in chapter 7 :) <3


	7. you'll be the last to know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo, check out some breakable heaven art!!!! 
> 
> \- [here](https://twitter.com/lizarttt/status/1341070332799705095)  
> \- [here](https://innagetawaycar.tumblr.com/post/637769783115448320/oh-god-damn-my-pain-fits-in-the-palm-of-your)  
> \- [here](https://innagetawaycar.tumblr.com/post/637984858726072320/eyes-like-sinking-ships-on-waters-so-inviting-i)

Four years ago, there had been an assassination attempt against Zuko.

(And that day has remained a frequent reoccurrence in Sokka’s nightmares ever since.)

All of them – Sokka, Katara, Toph and Aang – had come to visit him in Caldera, after almost seven months apart. At that point, it had been the longest any of them had gone without seeing each other as a complete group since the end of the war.

So, it had been safe to say that Zuko was ecstatic to see them – so ecstatic that even though Iroh had explicitly told Zuko to bring the rest of them back to the palace first (to see him and to pick up a proper team of guards, rather than just Suki and Ty Lee, who had gone with him to meet the group at the harbor), he’d all but dragged them off their boat, away from the docks and into the heart of the city.

It isn’t difficult for Sokka to remember that day – and not just the bad parts either. Zuko’s excitement had been contagious – his wide grin, his golden eyes lit up so brightly that Sokka could’ve sworn the sun wasn’t even necessary to light the path ahead of them (and yes, in retrospect, he _does_ know exactly how that sounds). The rest of them had struggled to keep up with his quick pace. By the time they had reached the up and coming arts district in the center of Caldera, which Zuko had been _dying_ to show them (at least according to his seventeen separate letters about it to Sokka) – arms and hands tangled together (and in Toph’s case, a very strong grip on Suki’s shirt) just to make sure that they didn’t lose each other in the crowd – the group was near hysterical with laughter.

It was no surprise, really, that none of them had noticed the Ozai sympathizer (of which, at that time, there were _tons_ of, hence Iroh’s request for _more_ security), quietly following them, all the way from the docks.

None of them were to _blame_ for the fact that none of them had seen the man, from the shadows of an alley, load, notch, and aim his bow at Zuko’s head.

(No matter how many times Katara had reassured Sokka of that lack of blame, the fact that he’d been distracted by – well, Zuko – still haunted him, a little.)

(Okay. A lot.)

It _was_ a surprise when, with a shocked yelp and a shout of, “Zuko, _move_!” Aang had turned and grabbed the arrow mid-flight, less than a foot from Zuko’s head.

Thank the spirits for Aang and airbender hypersensitivity.

That’s what Aang called it anyways – his ability to sense danger, to _feel_ an oncoming attack vibrating in the air around him, a few moments before a non-airbender could.

Sokka is fairly certain that Katara has a similar hypersensitivity, except that instead of sensing danger, _she’s_ able to telepathically sense the moment and location that Sokka dissolves into extreme emotional distress.

(Either that, or she had cornered Hakoda almost immediately after the end of the meeting, found out what had happened, and rushed to follow Zuko’s path.)

Sokka guesses that it must be _one_ of those two options, because it feels like only a few seconds have passed when Katara drops into the snow by his side and flings her arms around him, the rest of their friends following quickly behind her.

“I’m going to murder them. Say the word and I will,” she whispers into his hair, clutching him tightly to her. Sokka’s arms are awkwardly squashed in between them – Katara had grabbed him so quickly that he hadn’t been able to hug her _back_.

“Still not the _most_ productive solution, but I do appreciate the sentiment,” he whispers back.

Katara lets out a shaky laugh against his neck. “Sokka, I’m completely serious.”

Sokka pushes backwards against her hold and, when she loosens it, pulls his arms out to grab both of her shoulders. “I know you are. And I love you for it. But –”

Katara frowns. “Yeah, I know.”

“It’s –” Sokka starts to say, turning towards where Zuko is still sitting and falling silent at the sight in front of him.

 _Toph_ – of all the people gathered around them – is crouched down next to Zuko, hand on his shoulder and giving his right ear the most serious expression Sokka has ever seen on her face. If he had to guess, she had just pulled away from whispering into Zuko’s ear the same way Katara had done to him. Which is…interesting.

Not that he doesn’t think Toph could be comforting. But.

Okay Sokka is definitely a _little_ bit confused by this entire configuration, but he doesn’t have more than a second to think about it before Katara’s pulling him off his feet and announcing to the entire group that the two of them need “quality sibling time” immediately.

It’s in an almost dream like state that Sokka is dragged away from Zuko.

Well not _away_ ; he’s trailing behind the two of them, talking quietly with Toph and Aang, but he might as well be on another continent entirely for how within Sokka’s reach he is in that moment.

Before he knows it, Sokka is being shoved into his room and onto his bed by a very anxious Katara who, as soon as the door swings shut behind them, all but _demands_ a full play by play of what had happened in the council meeting.

And honestly? Sokka doesn’t entirely mind.

Because while reliving each moment of the meeting, still fresh in his mind, isn’t exactly a pleasant experience (especially with the addition of Katara’s sympathetic noises of distress and growled, thinly veiled homicidal threats), it’s better than letting his mind drift to the _loud_ and frankly far more pressing thought whirling around in the back of his head. It’s practically screaming to be heard, but Sokka is able to ignore it while he talks to Katara.

Well, almost.

Because eventually, the story ends, and Sokka has nothing else _to_ say. And Katara, ever empathetic and understanding, _gets_ that and lets him stew in silence.

(Or relative silence. No amount of compassion for his distress would be able to stop Katara from angrily ranting about the things she would _do_ to Ambassador Kedinuk if it wouldn’t lead to a major diplomatic incident. She is just, in this moment, kind enough not to ask for Sokka’s input on the matter.)

Sokka’s used to tuning her out, though, no matter how much – in this moment – he wishes his brain would focus on her words. On _anything_. Other than –

“ _I’m pretty sure that you’re my person_.”

“ _Yeah. I’m pretty sure that you’re my person too.”_

Why had he _said_ that?

Sokka had meant it. Of course he had meant it, but –

He wasn’t ready to think about it, not then, not while he was still mid-spiral, not with Zuko sitting right next to him – he hadn’t meant to say it, or anything like it, _to Zuko_. Not _yet_.

But it had just. Felt right.

Sokka didn’t think – clearly – about the consequences of his words. He’d just let them fall out of his mouth as though the weight of them didn’t matter – as though saying them didn’t have the power to change the entire trajectory of his life in a second. But now, his mind is catching up with his mouth, and he realizes that putting off thinking about it was, perhaps, not a decision he had ultimately been in control of making.

And… Zuko had said it back. Right? He had said it _back,_ and then they’d been interrupted before either of them could elaborate, and Sokka…has no idea what to do with that. He isn’t even sure where to _start_ thinking about that – and he doesn’t get the time.

There’s a knock on the door, and after Katara calls out, “Come in,” Aang peeks his head into the room.

Aang shoots Sokka a nervous grin – _spirits,_ he needs to work very hard on not having another public tantrum if everyone’s going to look at him like he’s one second from shattering into pieces in the aftermath – and says, “You said to come check in an hour. So…” Aang pauses, his voice taking on a quality that makes Sokka feel suspicious, “Do you still want to go hiking?”

“What?” Sokka exclaims, “No, I _don’t_ –!”

“ _Yes_ ,” Katara drowns out Sokka’s protest. “Just the three of us, right?”

“Yep,” Aang answers, not looking Sokka in the eye, “Toph, Ty Lee and Suki are going to hang out with Zuko.”

And that’s how Sokka ends up hiking a _mountain_ , in the middle of the day, for no reason he can think of other than – he’s being babied. Katara’s maternal instincts have come out in such full force that she had apparently decided – at some point between figuring out what had happened in the council meeting and finding Sokka and Zuko by the water – that the best way to help him with his feelings is to literally tire him out like he’s a toddler who needs a nap.

Sokka wishes that Katara had just _asked_ him if he wanted to nap. He would’ve said yes, even if what he would have meant by “nap” would have been “hide in my room and brood and try to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do about Zuko.”

He certainly would have _appreciated_ the alone time.

But, in reality, Sokka knows that if it had been any other situation – if he and Zuko were _really_ together – then this would be exactly the right thing to calm him down. Katara _knows_ him and she knows that this method – diverting his emotions and distracting him with something mentally or physically exhausting – is the best way to help Sokka process and cope with something like the council meeting. (Although, Sokka’s pretty certain that if he and Zuko _were_ in a real relationship, he would’ve argued a bit more against being separated from him immediately in the fallout of _that_ meeting, but it’s too late to argue that now.) Point being – it’s all fine and good that Katara had decided that ranting and hiking were the things on the agenda for the day, and Sokka is, theoretically, grateful for her thoughtfulness.

 _But_.

Right now, all Sokka wants to do – or maybe not _wants_ , but knows that he _needs_ to do – is find some peace and quiet, preferably in his room, under multiple blankets, and just _think_. About all of this. Try to figure out a way forward that makes sense.

But that’s incredibly difficult to do, mid-hike, trying to keep up with Aang and Katara, who are quite possibly the most talkative travel companions of all time. _Now_ doesn’t seem to be the most prudent time to have a deep introspective spiral about his feelings towards Zuko and if Zuko might have feelings for him in return.

So when Aang yells back to him, clearly audible even over the loud wind blowing Sokka’s hair in his face –

“You coming?”

– Sokka plasters on a grin and picks up the pace.

* * *

By the time he collapses, exhausted, into Katara’s room, Sokka has managed to _mostly_ push the Zuko of it all out of his mind. They’re in Katara’s room because she had insisted, before pulling Aang with her and disappearing into the hallway, that they should all eat dinner in her room because, “He and Zuko should _only_ be spending time around family who loves them today, not dealing with anything else.”

Sokka had just nodded his agreement before falling onto her bed. She hadn’t even _yelled_ at him about that, which is a very bad sign for how worried she is about his mental wellbeing.

Sokka takes a deep breath and forces himself into a sitting position. Now, in the brief moment of time before the rest of the group rejoins him, is the time to pull himself together.

He hadn’t had to worry about keeping his believably-dating-Zuko-but-not-clearly-into-him-in-a-way-that-he-would-notice face on while he was _just_ with Aang and Katara, but sooner rather than later, Sokka would have to manage to maintain that, with the wonderful addition of an intense romantic crisis swirling in his brain. So, he should probably take a moment.

The only one still in the room is Momo, currently asleep on Aang’s designated cushion on Katara’s floor, who Sokka figures is the perfect, non-judgmental audience.

“Okay, buddy,” Sokka says to Momo, who raises his head in acknowledgement, “time to act normal. I can do that. I’ve been normal plenty of times.”

Momo chirps in agreement.

“Thank you. I knew you believed in me.”

Normal. A normal version of Sokka would sit on the floor so that he could sit with Zuko, because while Katara in her overly empathetic state might have allowed Sokka momentary respite on her bed, there is no way she’s going to allow _both_ of them to flop there. So Sokka pushes himself off of the bed and settles down on one of the free cushions, stretching out his legs and leaning backwards on his hands.

Normal. Casual.

Momo stands up, stretches, and walks across the room. He blinks at Sokka for a moment, then curls up on Sokka’s thigh.

Sokka doesn’t have a moment to decide whether or not that adds or detracts from his normal and casual appearance before the door bursts open.

“We’ve got food!”

Suki is grinning down at him, holding – enough food for two people.

“Well, food for us,” Ty Lee amends, plopping down onto the floor, “Katara and Aang are bringing the rest.”

“Where’s Zuko?” Sokka asks. “And Toph?” he adds, when Ty Lee gives him a significant look.

“They’re on their way,” Suki answers, sitting down next to Ty Lee and placing her food in front of her, “I’m _pretty_ sure Toph said they were going to go spar for a bit.”

And Sokka had thought _Katara_ was trying to tire him out. Poor Zuko.

Aang and Katara get back next, arms overflowing with food and chatting loudly, and it’s all Sokka can do to not jump out of his skin, because trying to keep _normal_ and _casual_ going is becoming more and more difficult, just from the anticipation of having to act _normal_ and _casual_ , and Zuko isn’t even _there_ yet –

And then Toph is shoving the door open with her hip, and Zuko’s following her, and Sokka feels a sense of calm wash over him.

Yeah. He’s going to examine _that_ later.

 _Later_.

Zuko looks completely drained, (and Sokka thanks the spirits that Katara had claimed sibling privilege in the divvying up of the emotional babysitting duties), but he’s smiling. That smile only grows wider when he catches Sokka watching him.

Sokka feels, quite plainly, set alight.

Zuko’s eyes drop to where Momo is quietly snoring on Sokka’s thigh, and his eyes glint mischievously.

 _How is he acting so normal? This is not fair,_ how _is he managing to act like we’d just had a completely normal conversation earlier_?

“Hey, don’t mess with him,” Sokka warns, meeting Zuko’s eyes as he gets closer, and ignoring his internal monologue entirely, “Momo’s even clingier than you are.”

Zuko just gives him a _look_ then bends down, squatting as he scoops Momo into his arms. Momo chirps but doesn’t protest. In fact, he snuggles happily into Zuko, and Sokka feels a sharp pang of jealousy – spirits, he needs to get it together. Momo stays put as Zuko sits down in front of Sokka and flops backwards, settling his head against Sokka’s chest, the top of his hair tickling Sokka’s chin, and yawning. Zuko lets go of Momo, resting both of his arms on both of Sokka’s outstretched legs. Momo climbs down into Zuko’s lap, curls up, and falls back asleep as though he’d never been disturbed in the first place.

“First of all,” Zuko says, yawning again, “You’re the clingy one. Not me. Second of all, Momo likes me better.”

“He does not,” Sokka argues, latching onto the only part of this situation that isn’t making him feel like he’s going to spontaneously combust.

“Before this argument gets out of hand,” Katara interjects from across the room, “Momo likes _me_ best. The rest of you are _all_ second-best – doesn’t really matter the order.”

“Excuse me,” Aang says, “he’s _my_ lemur.”

“So what?”

 _That_ turns into a whole argument, which Sokka decidedly does not get involved in, because all his brain can really process is the warm weight of Zuko’s body against his. Sokka isn’t entirely sure if this is Zuko…flirting? Acting? Is he really just _that_ tired from whatever intense sparring Toph had put him through?

Sokka is _not_ sure, nor does he think that the distinction particularly matters, in the grand scheme of things that are making him feel overwhelmed and dumbstruck and really in need of that quiet, solitary thinking time.

So when they finally, _finally_ make it back to his room, and Zuko is yawning every five seconds, his eyelids fluttering shut against his will (which is unbearably cute and seriously _not fair_ ), Sokka doesn’t bother trying to talk him into staying awake.

Once Zuko’s breathing has faded out into the clear sounds of sleep, Sokka tugs the covers up to his chin and lets himself think.

Sokka tries to lay it all out in front of himself, a mess of moments and emotions and guesses scattered across the cluttered desk that is his mind.

The feelings that he’s been having, since the kiss in the snow.

The slow but sure realization that those feelings had not _started_ because of the kiss.

The intense, overwhelming desire to kiss Zuko again.

And _again_.

The way that he had felt when Veya had told him – and when they had _proven_ – that Zuko was (is?) jealous of her. The fear – and almost blinding certainty – that Sokka had felt, in the council chambers, when he realized that he doesn’t _want_ a compromise. Doesn’t want someone else.

Zuko, by the water, holding his hand and saying, firmly, “I’m pretty sure that you’re my person too.”

Sokka is certain, beyond a doubt, that this isn’t a crush. This isn’t infatuation, or a weird mixed-up combination of the fact that he is in the process of speed running a sexuality crisis and the irrefutable fact that Zuko is incredibly attractive. This is…this is something real, and permanent, and undeniable.

Sokka isn’t ready to call it what it is, exactly.

He _knows_ the words.

But those are serious, permanent, _can’t go back once you’ve said them_ words. And that’s…terrifying, because Sokka isn’t certain that his feelings, however he defines them, are returned. The words are lurking though, in the back of Sokka’s mind, waiting for him to recognize them.

And he will. Just. Not yet.

Because he wants to _tell_ Zuko. Sokka doesn’t have the words for it, not quite, but Zuko always understands him when he can’t completely articulate his thoughts, so Sokka knows that he’ll _get_ it. He should tell Zuko. Sokka knows that.

Sokka also knows that even though he isn’t _sure_ that Zuko returns his feelings, the chance that he does is high. It’s entirely probable, based on the evidence.

 _But_.

The council meeting flashes through Sokka’s mind, and he feels almost outside of his body, like he’s retelling what happened to Katara again.

Even if Sokka is certain that Zuko likes him, to ask him to properly, _truly_ take this leap would be so much to ask. It is clear that if Zuko _did_ like him back, and if Sokka _did_ confess his feelings, that this will never, ever be an easy process. In fact, it might be impossible.

(And whether or not it would be possible is something that they will find out in four days.)

Four days to tell Zuko the truth, four days to find out if it would even _matter_ if he did, four days until –

Sokka turns his head, as quietly as possible, and exhales slowly.

Zuko is fast asleep, laying on his stomach. His arms are wrapped tightly around his pillow and he’s facing Sokka. His breathing is steady, gentle.

(In. Out.)

Sokka tries to focus on that. To keep the time.

If Zuko feels the same way – and again, the probability of that seemed higher than Sokka feels it is entirely reasonable to hope for – it might be all for nothing.

(In.)

It is so much for Sokka to ask of anyone, let alone his best friend.

(Out.)

But then, there’s Sokka’s duty to the Southern Water Tribe. There’s _Yue_. Yue, who had sacrificed herself for her tribe, who had made all of her choices based on duty. And that was admirable, and she was brave, and thoughtful, and put other people first, and Tui and La, did Sokka have a _type_.

(In.)

At the same time, didn’t Sokka owe it to Yue, to stand up for himself? To demand that he be allowed to make the choices that she never even had the chance to contemplate? Did he not owe it to Yue, to Zuko, to _himself_ , to be brave and choose – well. Sokka isn’t going to say that word. Not yet.

(Out.)

Sokka looks at Zuko again, and he’s hugging the pillow closer to his face, his cheek smooshed into the fabric. He wonders, on Zuko’s next inhale, if this is really a debate at all.

(Zuko exhales, and it comes out a contented sigh. An unconscious smile flickers across his lips, and Sokka aches to know what he’s dreaming about.)

No. It isn’t. It’s barely even a question.

* * *

Apparently, Sokka’s outburst in the council meeting had led to him getting knocked out of any and all important meetings the next day, _and_ removed from the appointments that he and Zuko were supposed to be attending together. He’d barely gotten to talk to Zuko at all that morning, as they’d both been abruptly awoken at the crack of dawn to be alerted about their schedule changes before being rushed out the door.

(So no, Sokka has not confessed his feelings yet. He will get to it. Half-awake and annoyed Zuko is _not_ the brand of Zuko that Sokka wants to do this with, okay?)

 _Zuko_ is helping taste test a mix of Fire Nation and Southern Water Tribe dishes for the reception that is happening tomorrow, in celebration of Iroh and Azula’s arrival. A taste testing which Sokka had originally _supposed_ to have been attending.

Instead, Sokka is stuck in the Northern Water Tribe embassy next to Veya, listening to one of Ambassador Kedinuk’s advisors drone on and on about the differences in door density and window size in the capitol building – which he keeps referring to as a _palace_ , which it _isn’t_ , because the Southern Water Tribe is _not_ a monarchy, no matter how many times Kedinuk insists that it should be – versus in the embassies.

How _exactly_ is it fair that this is Sokka’s punishment for voicing his opinion about his _own_ future? Sokka shouldn’t be punished at all, and yet here he is, listening to Advisor Who Cares ramble dully about the varying thicknesses of different types of wood, when he _could_ be with Zuko, stuffing his face and –

Oh spirits, brain, don’t go _there._

Sokka coughs loudly, so as to give himself an excuse to cover his suddenly flushed face and try to move his brain towards literally any topic that isn’t Zuko. (Meanwhile, his brain is _trying_ to wander back to the morning after Suki’s birthday, and Sokka’s too small pajama shirt hiked up and revealing Zuko’s hip bone, and what might lie _beyond_ that hip bone, and –)

Veya shoots him a look of concern, patting him awkwardly on the back. “Are you okay?”

Sokka nods, coughs once more, and drops his arm. “I’m uh – yeah. I’m fine.”

“Then I assume that you’re done interrupting,” interjects Advisor Whoever the Fuck. Rudely, Sokka thinks, but doesn’t say.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sokka mutters, “go ahead.”

Sokka doesn’t see Zuko like _, all day_ (which might be objectively good, as Sokka’s brain seems fixated on things it should _not_ be fixated on during meetings), because he ends up shuffled from boring meeting to boring meeting, and Zuko never seems to be in _any_ of them. This is in stark contrast to the almost-literally-all-their-time that they’d been spending together over the last week and a half.

By the time they _do_ finally meet back up, the sun is creeping down towards the horizon.

(Sokka had been dragged into a dinner meeting with Ambassador Shang about – fuck, who knows, he’s already forgotten – and had _not_ gotten to join his friends to eat, like he normally did.)

Zuko is waiting for him by the front doors, along with Katara and Hakoda. Because, within the hour, Iroh and Azula would arrive.

The incredibly anxious look on Zuko’s face is enough to wipe Sokka’s mind clear of any thoughts, inappropriate, overdramatically romantic, or otherwise. Hakoda and Katara seem not to have noticed – either that or they’re trying to respect Zuko’s privacy – so Sokka waits until after they’re out the door and walking at a steady pace, out of the earshot of his family, before he asks –

“Are you okay?”

Zuko looks over at him, frowning slightly. Then, as though it’s something he’s forgotten on his to-do list, he grabs Sokka’s hand. “I’m fine. Why?”

“You’re clearly _not_ fine,” Sokka disagrees, pointedly ignoring that what was once a casual gesture now sends shockwaves across his body, “and we have like, a ten minute walk before you won’t be able to tell me whatever’s wrong. So. Talk.”

Zuko huffs in annoyance. “Nothing’s _wrong_ , I just – it’s been awhile. Since I’ve seen them.”

Oh. Okay. Family stuff. Sokka can talk family stuff. That’s…pretty far away from the topics that he’s deliberately avoiding.

“I thought you were excited to see them?”

“I _am_ ,” Zuko agrees emphatically, “It’s just – I don’t know.”

Sokka lets the uncertain silence sit for a moment, then suggests, “Are you nervous about what they’ll think about all of this? Us?” Sokka isn’t sure if he hopes that Zuko does or _doesn’t_ pick up on his double (triple? quadruple?) meaning.

Zuko looks surprised. “No. Agni – _no_ – I don’t. I think they’ll be fine with – it’s not that.”

Yeah. Sokka has no idea which version of his question that was in response to – if Zuko had been aware of the multiple questions at all.

“So then, what _is_ it?” Sokka asks.

Zuko contemplates that, swinging their arms back and forth. Ahead of them, Hakoda and Katara are having a serious conversation about something. Sokka can’t hear their words, but traces of their tone are floating backwards with the wind. Slight awkwardness aside, Sokka’s glad to be next to Zuko in this moment.

“I think,” Zuko says slowly, regaining Sokka’s full attention, “it’s kind of weird because, before this year, the last time I was _away_ from either of them for such a long time was – you know –”

“ _Oh_ ,” Sokka confirms, “Yeah. Wow.”

“With Azula,” Zuko continues, “it’s been since the end of the war but, with Uncle, the last time I was apart from him for more than a few _months_ was when _he_ was in Ba Sing Se to, you know –”

“Siege,” Sokka finishes helpfully.

Zuko pulls a face. “Yeah. So, it feels weird to reunite for like, a normal reason?”

“Your boyfriend’s birthday,” Sokka supplies, and Zuko makes an even more dramatic face.

“Again, you’re _not_ the main focus here –”

“In your incorrect opinion –”

“They would _not_ be traveling all the way here if I wasn’t –”

“What _ever_ ,” Sokka talks over him, grinning, because Zuko isn’t _actually_ upset and that’s something to grin about.

Zuko rolls his eyes, his gaze lingering on Sokka just a little too long, and Sokka feels those daunting _words_ do a little dance in the back of his head.

“The ship is here!”

Hakoda’s shout from ahead jolts both of them out of their private bubble.

They had reached the harbor quicker than seemed right but, Sokka’s not going to let himself go down the _spending time with Zuko feels like no time at all_ path right now, so he doesn’t comment.

Instead, he takes in the sight of the very clearly Fire Nation ship making its last approach towards the docks. It’s moving slowly, the dark, metallic hull an ominous stain against the red, orange, yellow blaze of the sunset painted across the sky.

“Agni,” Zuko mutters. Sokka can’t help but agree.

“You said it.”

Katara and Hakoda have walked ahead, talking to the men working at the dock that the ship is gradually moving towards, so they don’t hear the rest of Zuko’s rant.

“I mean, could they _make_ a more dramatic entrance, I swear to –”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Sokka interrupts, before Zuko can spiral. Zuko gives him a pained look, and Sokka repeats himself. “It’s fine. Seriously. It’s literally just us and a few dockhands here to see them. Everyone else will get the Fire Nation entrance at the reception tomorrow.”

“I guess you’re right,” Zuko says, his eyes leaving Sokka to watch the progress of the ship. It’s fully in the harbor now, and the dockhands are rushing forward to prepare the gangplank.

“I’m always right,” Sokka amends.

Zuko snorts. “Are you trying to annoy me into not being worried?”

“Is it working?”

Zuko shrugs. “It’s not _not_ working.”

“Then I’m not _not_ going to stop,” Sokka responds. He squeezes Zuko’s hand, deliberately does _not_ look at Zuko’s reaction to that, because there just isn’t time, and tugs him forward onto the dock. “Come on. They don’t bite.”

“Azula definitely bites.”

“Yeah, but she probably won’t bite you in _public_.”

It takes a few more minutes for the gangplank to be properly attached, and it’s a bit awkward, standing quietly, shoulder to shoulder with Hakoda and Zuko, Katara on Hakoda’s other side. Thankfully, it only _feels_ like it’s been a few seconds when Sokka finally spots them – Iroh, in full Fire Lord regalia (fur-trimmed and much thicker than Zuko’s coat had been – the royal stylists must have learned) and Azula, in what appears to be thinnest possible coat that she could get without being shot down. It’s fur-trimmed too, but even from this far away, Sokka can tell that the deep maroon fabric is far too thin, if the way that Azula’s jaw is clenched, like she’s trying her best not to visibly shiver, is evidence enough.

“See?” Sokka says, “she can’t bite you – she probably has lockjaw.”

“Sokka, if you care about me or my wellbeing at all, please shut up,” Zuko hisses, dropping his hand.

In response, Sokka mimes locking his lips and throwing the key into the ocean (and tries not to be obviously offended at the loss of Zuko’s hand).

Zuko doesn’t have time to respond sardonically to that, because the moment Iroh’s feet touch the dock, he rushes towards them and grabs Zuko, towing him for a tight hug.

Zuko goes with an _oof_ , an uncomfortable bend of the knees, and an, “Uncle, _seriously_ –”

Iroh’s response, somewhat muffled by Zuko’s coat, is still perfectly audible. “You’re lucky I’m not planning on hugging you for as long as you’ve been gone.”

Sokka can’t see Zuko’s face, as it’s tucked into Iroh’s neck (which is impressive, and likely painful, based on the odd crouching position he’s in), but he can _feel_ Zuko’s smile in the way that the tension seeps, visibly, out of his shoulders at Iroh’s words.

“Yeah, yeah –”

Iroh pulls back, pats Zuko fondly on the cheek, and looks around at the rest of them. The Fire Lord hairpiece is slightly askew in his top knot, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“Chief Hakoda, Sokka, Katara – it is so wonderful to see all of you.”

Hakoda reaches forward and grasps Iroh’s forearm, which Iroh, thankfully, seems ready for – Sokka lets out a sigh of relief, grinning as Iroh turns to greet Katara next. Sokka’s not sure he could’ve handled the awkwardness of a cultural differences misstep _this_ early into the visit.

Speaking of cultural difference missteps.

“Uncle, are you _quite_ finished hugging and kissing every member of the Southern Water Tribe?”

Azula, who has taken her time walking down the dock, has finally made it to the group. She’s hovering a couple of feet behind Iroh, arms crossed over her chest, and up close it is transparent that her coat is _useless_ against the weather. Sokka makes a mental note to ask Zuko, at a later date, if Azula has mastered breath of fire the same way he has. His instincts (and the way Azula is clutching herself tightly) tell him no.

“Not yet,” Iroh says simply, turning to Sokka.

There’s no real reason why Sokka’s heart should feel like it’s about to leap out of his chest when Iroh grasps his arm and shakes – he’s known Iroh for six years, he likes Iroh, Iroh likes _him_ – but, it _does_ , and Sokka is grateful when Azula interrupts whatever Iroh had just opened his mouth to say to him.

“Well, _I’m_ not participating in any of that.” She shoots Zuko a look, and adds, “Don’t even –”

Zuko, to Sokka’s slight surprise, is grinning ear to ear. The Iroh effect, Sokka guesses.

Azula looks panicked for a second, warning, “Zuko, _don’t_ –,” but her protests are stifled when Zuko pulls her in for a hug. Not quite as tight as Iroh’s, but tight enough that Azula squeaks in surprise.

“I missed you,” Zuko says quietly, but not so quietly that the rest of them don’t hear it.

Azula, stiff in his hold, frees an arm from the trappings of Zuko’s own and pats his back awkwardly. “Yeah, yeah, of _course_ you did.”

Zuko snorts and releases her. “No, ‘I missed you too, Zuko?’”

“ _You’re_ the one who decided to abandon me to live in this –” Azula pauses, takes in her surroundings, and finishes, “– tundra.” It’s clear to everyone that that’s far from her instinctual word choice.

Zuko seems unbothered by her attitude. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” And then, without even a glance of warning in his direction, Zuko steps back and grabs Sokka’s hand.

Iroh and Azula’s eyebrows shoot up in sync.

Azula says nothing, though it’s clear that her mind is reeling.

Iroh, however, seems to be fighting off a grin when he says, “It seems like there are some developments in your life that you need to tell us about, Zuko.”

Zuko nods. “That’s – yeah. I do.”

“Well, why not now?” Katara suggests, eyeing Azula apprehensively. “It’s late, and the reception tomorrow is early, so you should show them to their rooms and catch up, Zuko.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Hakoda agrees, before Sokka can argue that _hey_ , he wants to talk to Zuko, and he has no idea what kind of mood Zuko is going to be in after a conversation with Iroh and Azula. “Zuko, you know which rooms they’re staying in, right?”

Zuko nods again and drops Sokka’s hand. _Again_. Sokka is getting a little tired of the repetition. “Yes, sir.”

Iroh steps forward, looping his arm with Zuko’s and saying, “Lead the way.”

Zuko does just that, and Sokka feels his stomach sink – until, after waiting until Azula has stalked in front of him to lead the way, Zuko looks over his shoulder and mouths at Sokka, “ _See you later?_ ”

Sokka nods and grins.

* * *

By the time Zuko finally gets back to their – Sokka’s – room, Sokka is in the disconcerting state between being physically exhausted and internally alert. Restless. _Jumpy_.

So jumpy that, when Zuko pushes open the door in a perfectly reasonable and quiet way, Sokka has to stop himself from flinging a pillow across the room in lieu of proper self-defense.

Zuko stops in his tracks, an amused look taking over his face. “Were you going to use that to attack me?”

Sokka frowns at Zuko and drops the pillow, which he had still been holding in front of him like a weapon. “Maybe.”

“Good luck to anyone who ever tries to sneak up on you in the middle of the night,” Zuko says in a solemn voice, his grin betraying his tone. He’s already in his own pajamas – he must have stopped in his room on the way over – so he slides right into the bed next to Sokka.

“Oh, shut up,” Sokka grumbles, before remembering where Zuko had just been – _who_ he had just been with, that is. “Shit, um – are you okay? Was all that – are they okay?”

Zuko, who had been about to lay down, pauses, still sitting up, legs crossed under the blankets. “What?”

“Your uncle and Azula,” Sokka clarifies. “Are they okay with the – you know – us. How did that conversation go?”

“Oh,” Zuko says, and then repeats, “oh, yeah they were fine, it was um –” he stops, and looks extremely deep in thought, for what feels like forever, before intelligently finishing,“– yeah.”

Sokka nods slowly, and Zuko makes a vague noise, waving his hands distractedly.

“I just mean,” Zuko says, “I don’t know. It’s not that they – I mean – me being gay isn’t new information for either of them so, it was just, that _you_ – they were more concerned about the council’s reaction than the fact that it was happening at all.”

“Okay,” Sokka answers because, there’s a _lot_ there that he would like to dig into, but he doesn’t have the slightest clue where to start, and Zuko has made no indication that he’s talking about anything _other_ than their fake relationship, and he doesn’t want to delve into the council related part of this if Zuko _is_ , maybe, thinking about some version of this that isn’t fake. Zuko doesn’t respond (which is fair – Sokka hasn’t given him much to respond to), so Sokka takes a stab at pushing the conversation forward. “So. You told them a long time ago.”

Zuko gives him a confused look. “Yeah? You knew that.”

“I know,” Sokka says. “I just mean, like – I don’t know what I mean.”

“Take your time,” Zuko says earnestly, without a hint of the sarcasm that Sokka’s statement definitely deserves.

“So, how was it when you – _if_ you – started –” Sokka stops, watching Zuko’s expression grow more bewildered. Unfortunately for both of them, Sokka has run out of coherent, intelligent words, and finishes, “– you know.”

Zuko just stares at him, eyebrow raised to the moon.

Sokka swallows hard. “You know,” he says again, “seeing...men…romantically.”

“Oh.”

“After you told Iroh and Azula,” Sokka adds hastily, as though that needs clarifying.

“Got it,” Zuko confirms. He pouts contemplatively, and Sokka tries not to stare at his lips. “Well, their reaction definitely wasn’t like what _you’ve_ had to deal with.”

Sokka attempts to brush off the way that his stomach twists unpleasantly as Zuko very much does _not_ contradict his implication that there _had_ been other men that he had seen. Romantically. In the past.

“So you’ve – yeah.”

Great. Real smooth.

“Yeah,” Zuko says, watching Sokka carefully. Zuko looks briefly troubled, like something in Sokka’s expression is concerning him, but that emotion leaves his face as quickly as it appears. Then he adds, with a slight upward twitch of his lips, “I mean, even before I _told_ them about me, there was – you know. Um. Jet.”

Sokka groans loudly before he can think _bad idea, shut up, what’s wrong with you?_ “ _Ugh_ , don’t _remind_ me.”

Zuko, it seems, takes that in a way that is _not_ related to Sokka’s poorly concealed feelings. “Sokka. Seriously. You knew all of this already,” he reminds him, laughing.

“I know,” Sokka concedes, deciding to lean into Zuko’s assumption of _why_ he had reacted like that, “I just don’t get it. You and Katara are, generally, _so_ smart. And yet –”

“Sokka, it was _so long ago_ ,” Zuko interrupts him, “And so not relevant to this conversation. Jet was my first kiss. That’s it.”

Sokka _didn’t_ know _that_ , until now. They’d never talked about it in detail, he just knew that _something_ had happened. He feels reassured for a second, before the underlying insinuation hits him. If Jet had _just_ been Zuko’s first kiss, then that implies that someone _else_ was –

“Ah.”

“Yeah,” Zuko answers, not elaborating any further as his face goes noticeably pink, “Sokka, we don’t – I mean if you have like, questions or – but we don’t have to –”

“I think that’s – yeah. I have questions. As a new bisexual.”

(Or, _that’s a really good cover story for being nosy about your past romantic relations, thanks so much for that super easy in, Zuko_.)

“Oh, okay,” Zuko says, his shoulders dropping in surprise at Sokka’s apparent candidness. “Well uh, to answer your question it was…fine? You know that my uncle and Azula didn’t care, and pretty soon after I told them, Uncle knocked down the old laws, so, there definitely wasn’t any um, judgement from either of them when I did bring a – uh – guy. Home. To the palace.”

 _A_ guy. Singular. Sokka could…deal with that.

“So you did have a guy. Person. A person who was a guy,” Sokka says gracefully. Then, in a rush, “Or _is_ a guy, not was, I didn’t mean to imply that he died or something, um –”

“Yeah, I did,” Zuko cuts him off. “Briefly. It wasn’t _serious_ , and it was a long time ago, but. Yeah.”

Sokka stays quiet for a few seconds, questions like _how long ago is a long time ago_ and _what the fuck does ‘it wasn’t serious’ entail, exactly_ running through his head. He stops _that_ in its tracks, then says hurriedly, “I’m sorry if this is invasive, I was just curious –”

Zuko puts up a hand to stop him. “It’s fine, Sokka, honestly. You’re new to this whole thing, it makes sense you’d want – uh – advice?”

 _Considering I can’t exactly ask you advice on how to tell you that I’m in – nope. This is why we cannot have a candid conversation right now_.

“Can I ask uh, how serious it was?”

Zuko looks a bit uncomfortable when he answers, “It wasn’t super romantic, if that’s what you’re asking. It was like, almost entirely physical.” The pink tinge of Zuko’s face darkens.

Sokka drops his gaze. He isn’t sure if that’s worse or not. He has a feeling, though, that the twisting jealousy in his gut would have been there either way.

“Mm,” is all that Sokka can manage to say in response.

Zuko watches him curiously for a moment. “That’s um, you know. It’s not a bad thing. It definitely helped me figure myself out a bit more and become more comfortable with everything.”

“Got it,” Sokka says, internally cursing himself for how breathy and surprised he sounds. He turns his head and stares straight ahead, fixing his gaze on his desk, across the room.

Zuko doesn’t notice, or doesn’t comment. His voice is strangely flat when he asks, “Is that all you wanted to know?”

Sokka looks back over at him. Zuko’s face is…carefully blank. Sokka doesn’t know why, and he doesn’t know how to ask. He tries to answer with the same steadiness, pushing down the _words_ in his head because no, _not_ the time, and all of the questions that he _could_ ask, if he was feeling brave enough. Because he isn’t.

“Yeah, that’s all.”

Zuko tilts his head ever so slightly, considering, then shrugs. “Alright. Well, if you _do_ want to talk about anything like that, we can.”

Sokka almost laughs, but that would give away his _actual_ thoughts, so he pats Zuko on the shoulder awkwardly and says, “Thanks, buddy.”

The exasperated look Zuko gives him in response confirms to Sokka that yeah, he is clearly not in the correct headspace to have _that_ conversation.

* * *

Sokka wakes to the delicate brushing of hair against his cheek. The feeling disappears as quickly as it began, followed by the familiar sensation of the mattress shifting underneath him, then the sound of gentle, careful feet hitting the ground.

Sokka keeps his eyes shut – he’s deduced that, like nearly every morning over the last few days, Zuko had woken up far closer to Sokka than he’d want to admit to in the light of day and, subsequently, is trying to quietly sneak away before Sokka notices. And, as he did the past few mornings, Sokka lets him. He keeps his breathing what he hopes is believably steady, but turns on to his side so that he’s facing the bathroom door. Sokka waits until he hears the door open and click shut, then sits up, yawning and stretching his arms over his head.

Sokka fiddles with the edge of his blanket, leaning against the pillows and letting wakefulness slowly wash over him. It feels like no time has passed at all when the bathroom door opens again, and Zuko steps back into the room.

“Morning,” he says into the quiet room.

Sokka looks over casually, like he hadn’t noticed Zuko’s entrance. “Morning, sunshine.”

Zuko rolls his eyes. He’s – Sokka tries not to be disappointed – already dressed for the day, his pajamas folded and hanging over his arm. And really, there’s not a _ton_ to be disappointed about. Although Sokka definitely prefers Zuko in his ruffled, just woken up state, _this_ Zuko, in deep red Fire Nation robes, style lingering somewhere between formal and casual, is not at _all_ an unwelcome sight, especially as Zuko walks over to the bed and leans against the foot of it, giving Sokka a _look_ that makes him feel – well – he feels almost _self-conscious_ , hyperaware of the fact that his hair is sticking up in the back, looking at Zuko’s, already pulled into an official top knot.

The reception isn’t for two hours, though. Sokka frowns.

“Why are you –?”

“Uncle wants to have tea, in like, ten minutes,” Zuko answers before Sokka can finish asking.

“…aren’t we having tea at the reception?”

Zuko makes a disgruntled noise. “We are. Uncle wants to have –” he inhales sharply, and finishes, as though admitting something painful, “– pre-tea tea.”

Sokka fails to hold in his laughter at that. “I missed your uncle,” he says, in between chuckles.

“Yeah, me too,” Zuko confesses, grinning. He just looks at Sokka for a second, seeming distracted, before saying, “I should go. I don’t want to be late.”

“Yeah, yeah, go,” Sokka agrees, “Pre-tea tea is like, the second most important tea of the day.”

“Shut up,” Zuko tells him, standing up straight. “I’ll see you later?”

“Wouldn’t miss second tea with you for the world, babe,” Sokka says, hiding the swooping feeling at the idea of calling Zuko babe and _meaning_ it behind a smirk.

Zuko goes faintly pink. “Yeah. Later. Okay.”

* * *

Sokka is going to tell him.

Today. After the reception.

Okay, maybe tonight. It’ll be easier, Sokka thinks, to have this conversation in the privacy of their room – of _his_ room (or Zuko’s, he supposes, but he can’t think of the last time he’d actually _been_ in Zuko’s room) – where no one could overhear it and, spirits forbid, find out that they hadn’t been properly dating the entire time. Assuming that this all goes according to Sokka’s incredibly loose plan, he’s absolutely dreading the moment that they have to tell their friends that actually, they’ve been dating for a week, not nearly seven months.

But that is (hopefully) a problem for tomorrow Sokka.

He still isn’t sure exactly _what_ he’s going to say but, Sokka feels, instinctually, that as soon as he starts talking it will just…happen. Naturally. There’s something about Zuko that makes words come easier, that makes communicating things feel as simple as breathing. Sokka loves to plan, _survives_ on a detailed list of steps but this – he’s pretty certain he can wing this.

Sokka repeats that to himself – various versions of the same reassurances – as he gets dressed, about an hour after Zuko had left for his pre-tea tea. Sokka has a sneaking suspicion that Iroh has something that he wants to _talk_ about, not just a desire for crack of dawn tea with his nephew but – who knows. Sokka loves him, but the man is _weird_.

Sokka is jarred out of his thoughts, dropping the ends of the sash he’d been in the process of tying around his waist, by a quiet knocking on his door. It’s so quiet that it almost seems accidental. Sokka frowns, ties his sash haphazardly, and moves towards the door cautiously. 

He wonders, briefly, if he should’ve grabbed a weapon of some kind, but shakes his head. _No_. It’s probably nothing.

Sokka pulls the door open dramatically though, hoping to scare any potential threat away. Instead he finds Advisor…fuck, _what_ is his name?

“Oh! I – uh – Sokka, sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” Ambassador Kedinuk’s Nameless Advisor stutters, nearly dropping the piece of parchment he’s clutching as he looks up to meet Sokka’s startled gaze.

“You didn’t know I was in _my_ room?” Sokka questions.

“No, sir,” he answers, frowning slightly, “But, since you are, here.” The advisor sticks out his hand, offering the parchment to Sokka.

Sokka squints down at it.

_To: Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe_

_From: Ambassador Kedinuk of the Northern Water Tribe_

_Delivered by: Kote of the Northern Water Tribe_

(Oh, _that’s_ his name).

The note goes on, far longer than Sokka has the patience to read right now, considering it seems to be…

Sokka looks back up. “Is this a birthday letter?”

“Yes,” Kote says slowly, confusion at Sokka’s disbelief evident in his tone. “It is your birthday soon, correct?”

“Um, yeah,” Sokka acquiesces, “But not for two days. And Ambassador Kedinuk is going to be _at_ my birthday, so –”

“I don’t know, he just asked me to deliver this, okay?”

Kote looks slightly alarmed which is weird, considering the entirely tame nature of this conversation, but Sokka couldn’t possibly care less about Kedinuk and his scheduling mistakes in this moment.

He reaches out and pats Kote’s arm supportively. “Okay. Thanks for the letter. I’m going back into my room, where I often am, okay?”

A strange look crosses Kote’s face at that, but he nods. “Have a good day, sir.”

Sokka stares back for a moment then shakes his head. Whatever. He does _not_ have time for this.

By the time he’s gone back into his room, finished up perfecting his look for the day, and is making his way to the banquet hall where the reception would be happening, Sokka has all but forgotten about Advisor Kote and his weird behavior.

He completely forgets when Zuko appears from around the corner – alone. And Sokka realizes, suddenly, that he is _also_ alone in this corridor, close to the banquet hall but not quite. And now they’re alone, together. The idea sends a shiver down Sokka’s spine.

“Hey,” Zuko says, a little breathlessly, as he catches up to Sokka, “I’m not late, right?”

“Nope, we’re on time,” Sokka confirms, holding back a surprised noise when Zuko grabs his hand. There’s no one around but, Sokka guesses, he’s trying to get into character. Or not. Who knows, at this point?

“Good,” Zuko says with a grin.

“You’re in a good mood,” Sokka comments, and Zuko’s smile just widens.

“Yeah,” he says, not elaborating, but squeezing Sokka’s hand.

Sokka _almost_ says it all. Right then.

But, no, the reception is starting in like, five minutes, and regardless of the fact that he’s becoming more and more certain that Zuko’s feelings are the same as his, Sokka knows that they’ll need time to actually _talk_ about all of it, and five minutes isn’t even close to enough.

So he tugs Zuko ahead, turning the corner to find yet _another_ empty corridor, the one just before the banquet hall, and hopes that he can keep his feelings bottled up until the end of the two hour reception.

Zuko, it seems, cannot.

Sokka feels rather than sees Zuko pull at his hand, spinning him backwards. He only has a second to raise his eyebrows in confusion before Zuko grabs at the collar of his tunic, almost desperately, and tugs him in for a kiss.

Sokka makes a surprised noise against his lips, but he’s ready to ignore his shock and just lean into the warm feeling pooling in his stomach, lets the hand not in Zuko’s slide up his side, lets himself just –

And then Zuko pulls back.

And then Aang rounds the corner, spots them, and waves.

“I heard him coming,” Zuko whispers to Sokka’s dumbstruck silence, before turning to greet Aang.

What.

What?

Sokka’s heart is pounding in his ears.

He doesn’t hear Aang’s first greeting, but he does hear –

“Sokka? Are you okay?”

Sokka focuses on Aang’s concerned face. “Yeah,” he says, pointedly not looking at Zuko, “I’m fine.”

He’s _not_ though. Or is he? Was that – ?

Spirits, Sokka wishes more than anything else in the world that they weren’t about to _not_ be able to talk about whatever _that_ was for the next two hours.

Because yes, he thinks as Zuko tugs him forward again with a mildly anxious sideways glance, making sure to be affectionate in front of their friends is what they’ve been doing for the past nearly two weeks. But –

He’d _heard Aang around the corner_? _What_?

That didn’t –

Or –

Sokka doesn’t have time to think about this now, so he tries to shove it down.

And that…doesn’t end up being _too_ difficult.

The reception for Iroh and Azula is, first and foremost, meant to be a bridge between the Southern Water Tribe elders and the Fire Nation royal family. Which, as of late, has not been the most stable of bridges. Their visit had already been incredibly important and now the stakes were high as they could possibly be. It was going to take an incredibly careful and delicate touch for these two hours to go well.

Which. Well.

“I’m not going to play nice with her, Sokka. Sorry, I love you, but no.”

“ _Suki_ ,” Sokka whispers, from where he’s standing with her and Ty Lee on a far side of the banquet hall. Across the way, Azula is standing with Zuko – the two of them are in what appears to be a deeply engaging conversation with Toph.

“I understand that she’s Zuko’s sister, but I’m not capable of pretending that she’s just a _normal_ person like us yet,” Suki says.

Ty Lee makes a noise of agreement. “She is _not_ a normal person.”

“Ty Lee,” Sokka starts to argue, but he falls silent when Ty Lee levels him with a glare.

“What are you going to say? She was _my_ friend, I’m pretty sure I know better than you.”

“You’re right,” Sokka says, putting his hands up in the air in apology, “I know. I just – you know, we’re trying to make sure that this whole thing goes as peacefully as possible.”

“And making me talk to Azula will lead to the exact opposite of peace,” Ty Lee snaps in response.

Sokka sighs. “Okay. Fine.”

When Sokka ends up standing in between Zuko and Azula, and across from Councilman Vinoq and Sorrok, he almost wishes that he’d forced Ty Lee to talk to her instead.

“This isn’t at all what I imagined the Southern Water Tribe to be like,” Azula comments, her eyes searching around the room.

“What exactly do you mean by that, Princess Azula?” Councilman Sorrok asks, through gritted teeth.

“Now, Sorrok, I’m sure she just means –” Vinoq starts to answer, but Azula talks over him.

“I didn’t think that it would be so _developed_ ,” she says, and Zuko groans quietly. “Zuko, _you’re_ the one who told me that when you first came here it was just some snow and –”

“ _Azula_ – that was a _long_ time ago.”

“It wasn’t _that_ long ago,” Azula argues, glaring at Zuko across Sokka.

“I have to agree with the princess on that,” Sorrok mutters under his breath. Sokka resists the urge to glare at him.

“Thank you Councilman – what was it?” Azula questions.

“Councilman Sorrok,” he answers slowly, annoyance seeping into his tone.

Azula pretends not to notice or, simply, doesn’t care. “Councilman Sorrok, how did the South afford all of this?”

Sokka resists the urge to slam his hand to his face.

“ _Azula_!”

“It’s a fair question,” Azula says, her tone almost bored.

Councilman Sorrok, with an expression that vaguely resembles the moment before retching, answers, “We’ve been lucky to have support from our sister tribe during reconstruction of the South Pole.”

Azula hums thoughtfully. “Fascinating. Well, Zuko, I think I want some tea.” Without another word, she loops her arm in Zuko’s and tugs him away.

There’s an awkward pause, in which Sokka, Vinoq and Sorrok stare at each other blankly.

“I – uh – I’m gonna, go,” Sokka breaks the silence, “Have a good day.”

Neither of them try to stop him as he hurries after Zuko and Azula, who are making a beeline towards where – spirits above – Katara is standing.

He just catches the tail end of Zuko’s angrily whispered sentence.

“ – already hate me, why are you questioning them about _funds_ of all things?”

“If they can spend so much of their time _attacking_ you, they can handle _some_ queries from me,” Azula retorts, stopping suddenly and crossing her arms. She shoots Sokka a pointed look and adds, “Don’t you agree, Sokka?”

Sokka shrugs. “I don’t _disagree_ , but –”

“Ha, see? Your boyfriend is on my side.”

“I didn’t say _that_ –”

“What did you three do? Sorrok looks like he’s about to kill someone.”

Katara had, apparently, noticed their approach, and is now standing in front of them with her hands on her hips.

“I didn’t do anything,” Sokka says, and Katara rolls her eyes.

“That sounds like something a guilty person would say.”

“He didn’t,” Zuko confirms, glaring at Azula out of the corner of his eye. “My sister, however –”

“Oh, forgive _me_ for trying to defend you. It’s not like anyone else has been doing that, so –”

“ _Hey_ ,” Katara interrupts, scowling at Azula, “If you have something to say to me, then say it. You have _no_ idea what it’s been like here the past two weeks, no idea what I’ve had to –”

Azula glares back, taking a step towards her. “You haven’t done anything, according to Zuko, none of you have –”

Zuko scoffs, glowering at Azula. “That is _not_ what I said –”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Sokka exclaims, pushing himself in between the three of them. “Let’s – look there’s a free table. Let’s go sit and drink tea. And not attack each other? Okay?”

All three of them turn their glares to Sokka but, in unison, mutter, “Fine.”

* * *

Sokka thinks that Iroh must be on to something with the whole calming tea concept, because after ten minutes of quietly stewing and drinking, a sense of calm has settled over the group. It’s almost unnerving when Azula, after a long gulp, comments –

“You know, I don’t really see how this whole _democracy_ thing is any better than a monarchy. It seems like all it leads to is idiots like those councilmen insulting their leaders.”

And, instead of attacking her, Katara sniffs and says –

“I completely disagree with you. However, if you’re familiar with any monarchy coup tactics that could be translated to our particular governmental structure –”

Sokka is the one that has to gasp, “ _Katara_.”

To which, she just snorts in response.

“Kidding, obviously.”

It’s not even noon, and this entire day has Sokka reevaluating his entire view of the world.

“In all seriousness,” Azula says, glancing across the table at Sokka and Zuko, “The council format isn’t _so_ different from Uncle’s ministers – it’s the _ambassador_ thing I don’t understand.”

“Azula, the Fire Nation has ambassadors too,” Zuko points out.

She waves a dismissive hand. “I know _that_. I just don’t understand why someone like – what’s his name again?”

“Ambassador Kedinuk?” Katara guesses.

“Yes,” Azula says, “How does _he_ manage to have such a say over what does or doesn’t go on in the South, if he’s from the North?”

That is…a fair point.

Sokka shrugs. “Sister tribe unity?”

Azula looks at him condescendingly. “Do you seriously believe that?” She turns her head slightly, and adds, “Zuko, I thought you said that Sokka was smart.”

“ _Sokka_ can speak for himself,” Sokka retorts.

“If you say so,” Azula says, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

“Azula,” Zuko starts, but whatever argument he’s about to begin is interrupted when Iroh and Toph drop into the two free seats at the table.

“I hope we’re not interrupting anything,” Iroh says pleasantly, smiling around at all of them.

“We’re stopping a fight, if their heartbeats are telling the truth,” Toph comments.

Iroh chuckles. “Then we got here just in time.”

A momentary quiet falls over the group. Azula, Sokka notices, is watching Toph curiously.

“How _exactly_ do you do that?” she asks, after the silence stretches on _just_ long enough to be uncomfortable.

Toph quirks an eyebrow in Azula’s general direction. “Do what?”

“The heartbeat thing,” Azula clarifies. “I know that it’s related to earthbending, but how can you be certain what someone’s heartbeat specifically indicates?”

Zuko, for whatever reason, goes tense at that. Sokka turns to give him an odd look, but Zuko grabs one of his hands, resting in his lap, and squeezes it under the table. _Don’t_.

Okay.

Zuko doesn’t let go.

“Hmm,” Toph ponders, “I’m not sure? It’s not something I’ve ever had to practice, really. I can just _tell_.”

Azula nods. “Fascinating. It must be lovely, never having to worry about if people are lying to you. I wish _I_ had that ability.”

“It is nice,” Toph agrees.

“Because unfortunately,” Azula continues, as though Toph hadn’t spoken, “My brother lies to _me_ all the time.”

“What are you talking about?” Zuko asks, his grip on Sokka’s hand abruptly tighter.

Sokka takes a long sip from his teacup, trying to hide his reaction to whatever Azula is about to say.

“I’m _talking_ about the fact that you talked my ear off about your crush on Sokka for the past _six years_ , and you can’t even bother to send me a letter when you finally get together?”

Sokka chokes on his tea.

Katara, alarmed, reaches over to hit him on the back, and he drops the teacup to the table. It just barely manages to land solidly enough not to shatter.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Azula says, watching Sokka splutter with an interested expression, “Did you not know that? Zuko, did you not tell him that?”

Sokka takes a deep breath, coughs, then meets Azula’s gaze. She tilts her head, and looks so startlingly like Zuko that Sokka almost chokes again.

“No. He didn’t,” Sokka answers, before Zuko can respond. He throws an arm around Zuko’s shoulders and adds, “ _Did_ you, baby?”

Zuko now seems, if possible, even tenser under Sokka’s hold. “No,” he says angrily, “I didn’t.” And then, unseen by the rest of them, drops Sokka’s hand.

Azula narrows her eyes at Zuko’s attitude. “Don’t be such a baby, Zuzu. I’m pretty sure that Sokka’s figured out that you liked him by now.”

“I’m sorry,” Katara interrupts, “but wait – six years? Zuko, you told us you figured out you liked Sokka two years ago!”

Zuko looks as though he’d prefer to fall in an ice hole again over being here. “I – um –”

“Oh Tui and La, this is _rich_ ,” Katara says, turning to Azula. “Tell me more. Right now.”

Azula grins wickedly. “Well, it started when –”

Sokka tunes her out. He doesn’t grab Zuko’s hand again – he must’ve dropped Sokka’s for a reason – but he pokes his arm and whispers, “You okay?”

Zuko meets his gaze and he looks uncomfortable. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Sokka whispers back, smiling in a way he hopes is reassuring. Zuko smiles back, but it seems reluctant.

That’s okay. Sokka can handle the enthusiasm.

Because, quite frankly, his heart is dancing around in his chest.

Zuko _likes_ him. _Has_ liked him, apparently, for some time. For real.

Spirits bless Azula and her big mouth.

Zuko is, understandably, embarrassed at the way that Sokka found _out_ about his feelings, but all Sokka needs is five minutes alone with him and that embarrassment will be gone, forgotten, _laughed_ about in the future and –

“Hey, Azula!” Toph says suddenly, interrupting Katara and Azula’s conversation. “I think I just overheard Kedinuk saying that he’s gonna go to the bathroom. Want to go melt the lock shut?”

Azula smiles wickedly. “Absolutely. Let us –”

“No,” Katara interrupts them.

“Katara,” Toph whines, “don’t be a stick in the mud. Aren’t you the one who said you wanted to shove Kedinuk’s head so far up his –”

“Yes,” Katara cuts her off, shooting Iroh a nervous look. He just smiles politely. “However,” Katara continues, “considering that we’re trying to make everyone not hate Zuko, we probably shouldn’t prank Kedinuk in a way that’s obviously done by a firebender. _Or_ an earthbender,” she adds, before Toph can interject.

“Then what exactly do you suggest?” Azula asks severely.

Sokka sincerely hopes that Katara is going to suggest none of the above, but she grins impishly and says –

“ _Duh_. I’ll freeze it. There are plenty of water benders here and, if we’re careful, no way to trace it back to me.”

“That is brilliant,” Azula says approvingly, “You’d make a fine princess.”

"That’s not a compliment, but thank you,” Katara responds.

When it’s clear that nothing Sokka says is going to stop them, the girls disappear into the crowd, leaving him, Zuko, and Iroh alone at the table.

Sokka starts to think that this is about to be the most awkward conversation of all time when Zuko gently bumps his arm. Sokka meets his eyes – they’re serious and focused.

“Can we talk? Privately?”

Sokka feels excitement rush over his body. “Yeah. Of course – yeah.”

Zuko stands and gives Iroh an apologetic look. “We’ll be back soon.”

Iroh waves a hand. “Take your time, Zuko, I can entertain myself.”

Sokka is inclined to agree with Iroh – once Sokka says what he has to say, he’s fairly certain that they will _not_ be returning soon.

He lets Zuko grab his hand and pull him towards the doors of the banquet hall, into the corridor, and through a door, his body thrumming with eagerness the whole time. He’s going to tell him, he’s going to tell him, he’s going to _tell him_ , and then they can address whatever the _fuck_ that kiss in the corridor was, (and hopefully continue it).

The second that the door shuts behind them, they both try to speak at once.

“Zuko, I – ”

“Sokka, let me –”

They both stop. They stare at each other, for a beat. 

Sokka rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Um – you go first.”

Zuko takes a deep breath, and though he’s still holding Sokka’s hand, his grip noticeably loosens.

“I just –” Zuko starts, and he’s looking anywhere but at Sokka, “ – Azula over exaggerates. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Sokka says, then stops. Waits for Zuko to elaborate.

“It’s just that – well, she didn’t lie, exactly but – that wasn’t the whole truth. Let me explain, okay?”

Sokka resists the urge to tighten his hold on Zuko’s hand. “Okay. Explain.”

Zuko makes a distressed noise. “It’s – okay – I _did_ like you, then. When we were – when I was seventeen.”

“Okay,” Sokka says, trying to keep his voice neutral. His insides are shooting off fireworks in celebration, in anticipation of Zuko’s face, when he tells him hey, _I like you too_ , but he knows that he needs to let this build up. He’s been wanting to just _talk_ at Zuko all day, but he can wait a little longer, ignore the bubbling speech in his throat for just a few minutes more, and let Zuko say what he needs to say.

“Yeah,” Zuko says, still not making eye contact. “So. Yeah. But that was _then_ and – I should’ve told you. I’m sorry that I didn’t, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable and this whole thing just kind of – well you sort of sprung it on me, and I wasn’t ready, and I didn’t think that I would ever have to tell you, so I just –”

“Zuko –” Sokka tries to interrupt, but Zuko meets his gaze then, finally, and the look in his eyes is so intense that Sokka’s mouth snaps shut.

“Please let me finish,” Zuko says.

Sokka just nods, not trusting himself to speak.

Zuko lets go of Sokka’s hand and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I did like you, then,” Zuko says slowly, “and if that makes you uncomfortable, I understand, and we can – we can figure out a new plan together to get you out of the marriage thing. But you don’t have to – you don’t have to worry about that. It was a long time ago, and it’s not relevant anymore – I don’t – it was a long time ago.”

“Oh,” Sokka says, because that’s all he can manage with a chest that feels like it’s been punctured. Like it’s halfway deflated. Like it’s kind of forgotten how breathing works at all.

“Or, if you’re uncomfortable you can – well I guess you can tell everyone else what happened here,” Zuko starts to babble, his eyes alarmed at Sokka’s taciturn response, “And they can help you figure something out if you don’t want to –”

“Zuko,” Sokka says firmly, putting all of the strength he can into his voice, determined _not_ to let it shake, “I’m not uncomfortable.”

(Heartbroken? Yeah. Crushed, and trying not to cry right now? Absolutely. But not uncomfortable. Never. Not with you _._ )

“Oh,” Zuko says, and he seems genuinely surprised. “Okay. Well then – do you want to – still? With the original plan?”

“Yeah,” Sokka confirms, curling one of his hands into a fist and digging his nails into his palm. “We might as well. Until – we should keep going.”

“Until you come up with your new plan?”

Sokka stares at him. “What?”

“Your new plan,” Zuko repeats, “That’s what you said, the first night. We would do this until you came up with something else, or the elders backed off. I know it’s kind of a mess now but, it’s almost your birthday, and we said that we were going to at least try it through then, and then I guess we can figure out what to do _after_ that. Have you - how is your planning going?”

_How is he acting so normal right now?_

_Because he got over his crush on you five years ago, idiot._

Sokka almost laughs. Instead he makes a noise that sounds more like a scoff, shrugs, and says, “I’ll let you know when I have something.”

Zuko smiles softly and it nearly shatters Sokka’s heart. “I know you’ll come up with something. You always do.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. 
> 
> so y'all saw that miscommunication tag, right? 
> 
> :)
> 
> anyways.
> 
> yell at me here, on [tumblr](https://fruitysokka.tumblr.com/), or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/alexndhenry). whatever tickles your fancy.
> 
> love you all. xoxoxo


	8. summer's a knife

There is something seriously wrong with Zuko. Like, sincerely _wrong_.

There _must_ be – there has to be, because it’s the only explanation for how he’s currently acting.

Because he’s acting like _nothing happened_.

Zuko is _acting_ like the ground hasn’t shifted from under Sokka’s feet. Like the fragile future that Sokka had dared to begin constructing in his head hasn’t just been lit up in flames. Like Zuko himself isn’t the one who had sparked the blaze in the first place.

Sokka is dimly aware of the fact that they’re walking, quietly, back to the banquet hall. His body feels separate though, a different person entirely, from the tangled mess of thoughts twisting inside his head.

Sokka stays, purposefully, just out of step with Zuko. Trailing behind him. Close enough not to alert Zuko to the fact that he’s on the verge of a meltdown. But _just_ out of reach, in case Zuko does something insane like try to grab his hand again.

Sokka has to force down a hysterical laugh at that thought.

A lot can change in the span of an hour.

Sokka knows that. _Has_ known it, for a long time. He’s seen it in the sudden shift of a dark, moonlit sky to an all-consuming, bloody crimson. Has known it, in gentle flurries and laughter turned in an instant to ashes and screams.

Sokka’s used to the rug being pulled out from under his feet.

Stupidly – childishly – he’d convinced himself that this time, that wouldn’t happen. _This_ time, things would go exactly as he’d imagined, with no gut-wrenching plot twist waiting on the next page.

Well, that had been an hour ago.

An hour ago, Sokka had been – well, he’d admittedly been a bit distracted. Maybe, if he hadn’t allowed his mind to be consumed entirely with the blazing look in Zuko’s eyes, the feeling of his fingers brushing against his neck, the soft urgency of his lips, the –

Yeah. Sokka had been a bit preoccupied.

 _So_ preoccupied that he had barely been capable of thinking of anything other than how badly he wanted to skip the reception all together. Or at least, for the two hours to speed by, so that whatever that kiss _was_ could be continued, and escalated, and –

Sokka hadn’t wanted to be in _public_ , to put it lightly.

(Maybe, if Sokka had been paying attention, he wouldn’t have let himself fall so far down a hole of naïve, idiotic fantasies. _Maybe_ , if Sokka had been paying _attention_ , he wouldn’t be stuck desperately trying to claw his way back out now.)

Ten minutes ago, Sokka had been nearly vibrating out of his skin, with (what he had _thought_ to be) the truth that _Zuko liked him back_ playing over and over in his mind. The urge to shout that those feelings were returned had been almost deafening as it rattled around in his brain, trying desperately to leap out into the space between them.

(Thank whatever spirit had been looking over him that Sokka had managed to keep his mouth shut until Zuko could – well.)

Sokka had let Zuko tug him, without protest, out of the hall and towards what he’d thought would be a short conversation and a _lot_ of kissing.

(It feels so stupid now. So immature. So _foolish_ to think that –)

Sokka needs to get away from Zuko

The thought comes out of nowhere, and even _thinking_ it, he winces internally.

But it’s true. Sokka can’t even see Zuko’s face right now – he hasn’t tried to rectify the difference in the awkward distance Sokka’s created between them – but just watching the gentle swish of his dark hair as he walks makes Sokka’s chest _hurt_. And then –

“Do you want to go back to the table, or mingle around a bit?”

Zuko has stopped in place and turned around. He’s looking at Sokka expectantly. His eyes are almost blank, eyebrow raised inquiringly, as though they’re discussing something simple, like the weather or a particularly dull trade deal. There’s nothing in Zuko’s expression that indicates _at all_ that he’s aware of the storm of emotions brewing in Sokka’s mind. Nothing that indicates he might have even a drop of the same feelings.

Sokka has the very sudden urge to hit something.

Instead, he clenches a fist by his side and responds, “Maybe we should split up.”

Zuko frowns. “Split up?”

“Split up,” Sokka repeats, biting the inside of his cheek against the feeling _that_ sends through his stomach. “You know. Independence is a good trait for couples to have. Healthy. Clinginess isn’t, I don’t know. Chiefly. ”

Zuko’s frown lessens slightly, but he still looks confused. “Sure. I…guess you’re right.”

“I generally am,” Sokka answers, and it comes out far more biting than he intends it.

If Zuko notices, it doesn’t show on his face. He just shrugs and says, “Whatever you think is best.”

Sokka doesn’t say anything else, and Zuko doesn’t push. And thank Tui and La, he doesn’t take Sokka’s hand.

Zuko _does_ give Sokka a slightly concerned look, when they get back to the reception. Sokka wonders, briefly, if maybe Zuko _knows_. He had _thought_ that he did, when he had incorrectly assumed that their feeling were shared. For some reason, in the wake of Zuko’s apparent lack of feelings, Sokka had forgotten all about how obviously he’d been trying to flirt with Zuko over the past couple of days. Sokka hadn’t thought about how obviously wounded he must’ve looked – how his heartbreak must’ve shown on his face. He’s thinking about it now though.

Had Zuko not seen it? Or had he politely ignored it?

(Until now?)

Sokka momentarily debates running into the crowd to avoid finding out, but of course, life doesn’t allow him a simple escape.

“Are you…you’re sure you’re okay?” Zuko asks suddenly. Then, as though it needs clarification, he adds, “With what I told you?”

Zuko sounds anxious, like he’s expecting Sokka to be mad at him.

Oh. Of course.

Zuko’s biggest fear is that Sokka is – in the aftermath of the revelation of his _past_ crush – uncomfortable. Grossed out. Perhaps _angry_ at the fact that Zuko had once liked him.

Sokka once again has to force down a hysterical laugh at how _badly_ wrong Zuko has understood this situation.

But, with more effort than he thinks it’s ever taken him to do anything, Sokka pats Zuko’s arm (perhaps a bit too platonically, considering they’re once again in public), and says with a tight smile, “It’s so beyond fine, Zuko. Don’t stress yourself out about it – it’s a non-issue.”

The anxiety doesn’t leave Zuko’s eyes – and Sokka can feel the tension in his body where his hand still rests against Zuko’s sleeve – but a quiet wave of relief crosses the rest of his face.

“Okay. Good.”

Zuko glances down at Sokka’s hand. He promptly breaks the contact.

“So, um,” Zuko starts, sounding unsure, “Splitting up? How do you want to do that?”

Rather than answering, Sokka scans the room – Katara, Toph and Ty Lee are giggling about spirits knows what in one corner, Azula has rejoined Iroh at the table and looks as though she’s about to claw her face off out of boredom, his dad is deep in conversation with Bato and Ambassador Shang – finally his eyes find Aang, who appears to be laughing at some joke Veya’s just told.

(Sokka will never admit it, but he doesn’t try that hard _not_ to lean into the surge of vindictiveness that rises up in him.)

“I’m going to go talk to Veya,” he says casually, watching Zuko’s eyes narrow. “Oh,” he adds, after a pause, “and Aang.”

The line of Zuko’s mouth goes noticeably tight, but all he says is, “Okay. I’ll uh, go talk to Uncle and Azula.” Then, as though he’s not certain what answer he’s going to get, “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Sokka says, “Later.”

Zuko gives him one last worried look before wandering towards the table they had abandoned earlier, when they’d left to _talk_.

Sokka feels a wave of shame rush over him. How had he so badly misinterpreted Zuko’s urgency – how had he taken it to be anything other than a gentle let down, a clarification of Azula’s latest attempt at taunting?

He doesn’t have time for this right now, though. Sokka scrubs his hands over his face for a second and plasters on the strongest smile he can (a very weak one), and makes his way towards Aang and Veya.

Aang spots him before he’s within hearing range and lifts his arm up to wave. He starts talking, but Sokka only hears the tail end of it as he approaches.

“ – seen you this entire time, where you have been hiding?”

Sokka shrugs. “I’ve been around. You’ve just been too busy schmoozing my dad to talk to the rest of us. Hi, Veya.”

“Hi, Sokka,” Veya manages to answer before Aang – wide-eyed now – jumps in to defend himself against Sokka’s claim.

“I have _not_.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Sokka says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You _can_ relax a bit though. He already likes you.”

“Not as much as he likes Zuko,” Aang insists, with a pout.

“Oh, uh,” Sokka starts to say, trying not to let the sinking feeling at the mention of Zuko show on his face. Evidently, it doesn’t work, because both Aang _and_ Veya’s expressions have been drained of any previous amusement.

“Sokka, are you okay?” Aang asks, pout replaced by a concerned gaze.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Sokka snaps, “Will everyone stop asking me that?”

Aang looks crestfallen, and Veya looks like she _knows_ something that he doesn’t, and Sokka wants to scream. To kick something. To be literally anywhere but here. But he can’t, he has to be _normal_ , for at least another half an hour, he’s pretty sure, and now Aang looks all hurt, and Sokka feels a rush of guilt wash over him (and this is entirely Sokka’s fault for being completely incapable of keeping his feelings off his face), and he doesn’t have _time_ to be guilty on top of every other thing he’s feeling.

So, Sokka takes a deep breath.

In. Out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out at you, it’s just – ” Sokka pauses and tries to make his regret clear on his face, makes _sure_ to make eye contact with Aang, “– I think I’m just a little tired.”

Aang’s face goes all sympathetic, and Sokka knows he’s in the clear.

“I can imagine,” Aang says, “These past two weeks have been – well.”

“A fucking nightmare?” Veya suggests, with a quirked eyebrow.

Aang stifles a loud laugh in the sleeve of his robes. Sokka snorts unabashedly.

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”

The conversation flows in a relatively normal way after that – Sokka’s careful to keep as much of his inner turmoil off his face as possible. He can _see_ that Aang is still troubled, can see the knowing glint in Veya’s eyes, but he doesn’t comment on it and they politely don’t bring it up.

So it’s fine. He makes small talk, he keeps smiling, and he tries not to let his thoughts drift to Zuko.

It doesn’t _work_ , but. He does _try_.

Trying doesn’t stop the way his eyes drift, almost unconsciously, around the room, searching for a flash of dark hair or red fabric in the crowd. _Trying_ to focus on what Aang and Veya are talking about doesn’t manage to stop Sokka’s brain from wandering back to the tiny room down the hall, doesn’t stop it from playing back his and Zuko’s conversation. Over and over.

Sokka wishes his brain would just stop _there_ , let itself wallow in his rejection, but it won’t.

Of course it won’t.

It’s almost as though his mind is determined to prove that what Zuko had said is _wrong_. Every piece of evidence Sokka that has collected, every lingering touch or too long gaze, every kiss (fake or not), every quiet promise that had felt like it must mean _something_ – all playing over and over, on loop. His thoughts are a whirlpool, twisting and unclear and utterly out of his control.

Scornfully, Sokka thinks to himself that maybe if he was a waterbender, he’d be able to force the whirlpool to a stop – he could handle this, maybe, if he was working with a still ocean of emotions.

But Sokka’s _not_ a waterbender. His eyes find Katara across the room. He wishes, more than anything, that he could talk to her. About _all_ of this.

The prospect of revealing to Katara and the rest of their friends that actually, he and Zuko weren’t dating, but don’t worry, they are _now_ , had been daunting but ultimately hilarious, just a few hours ago.

Now the idea of admitting _any_ of this, to any of them, makes Sokka ponder asking Toph to earthbend him deep underground.

But he needs to talk to someone.

Sokka is fairly certain that if he tries to weather this storm alone, he’s going to end up blown out to sea.

If he’s going to do this – talking to someone, that is – he needs to do it in a way that doesn’t reveal the fact that he and Zuko have been lying to everyone for two weeks. Or the fact that Sokka has gone and stupidly fallen for someone who isn’t interested in him. (Or, more honestly, realized that he’d fallen for him a long, long time ago which was infuriating and – no. Sokka doesn’t have time to go down the spiral of _what if I had realized this earlier? Would it have –_ )

Point being, Sokka needs to talk to someone without _talking_ to them. Which will be…difficult at best and potentially disastrous at worst, if he doesn’t achieve his goal of keeping all of this under wraps.

Sokka tries to lay out his options.

He _can’t_ talk to Katara. There is absolutely no way on earth that Sokka will be able to manage to talk to Katara about his feelings without explaining _what_ feelings he’s talking about. As much as Sokka knows that Katara’s advice would probably be the _best_ advice, he can’t take the risk of trying to get it. So he moves on.

Toph is a nonstarter, for so many reasons.

Aang is – well, Aang would probably, like Katara, actually be really good at talking about this, but – also like Katara – he would need the full picture to properly give advice. It’s not that he would demand it – he’s shown clearly in the fact that he’s letting Sokka stand here, half participating in conversation without questioning it that he’s not going to _push_ him for information. But Sokka knows that Aang’s particular brand of advice giving would be pretty pointless if he didn’t know what he was giving advice on.

So. Not Aang.

He catches Veya’s eye for a moment, and she’s giving him another one of those _knowing_ looks.

Definitely not Veya.

Suddenly, there’s a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, you three,” Suki says from Sokka’s side. “Mind if I join you? I accidentally made eye contact with Azula and she looked like she was considering talking to me, so I need that to _not_ happen.”

Sokka beams at her and throws and arm around her shoulder. “You’re safe with us.”

Suki rolls her eyes. “I’m not worried about my _safety_ , I just really do not want to have that conversation right now. Sorry, I know that’s your like, future sister-in-law or whatever, but – ” Suki makes a retching sound, “ – not a fan.”

The conversation flows a lot easier with Suki by his side, and if Sokka hadn’t already made the decision the moment she had appeared, it would’ve been made over the next fifteen minutes of idle chatter. He could talk to Suki about this. She… well, she’ll probably be a little bit weird about it, but Sokka knows that if he asks her not to push it, she won’t.

When the reception officially ends and the crowd inside the banquet hall makes its way to the door, Zuko, with Iroh in tow, approaches the four of them. Zuko and Iroh are talking about something – Sokka can’t hear what – but Iroh is smiling pleasantly.

As they reach them, Zuko catches Sokka’s eye and smiles.

It’s almost funny how Sokka’s stomach drops at the sight.

It’s _not_ funny when Zuko’s smile falters.

_Keep a straight face, Sokka._

“Hey, Zuko!” Aang greets him, “Hey, Azula. Hi again, Iroh.”

The rest of the group exchanges polite pleasantries, but Zuko just looks at Sokka. Confused.

It’s not _fair_ that he’s confused when he’s the one that –

“Sokka – did you hear what Iroh said?”

Suki’s giving him a strange look, and the rest of them are looking at him expectantly.

“Um, no” Sokka admits awkwardly. “Sorry. I zoned out a little bit there. What did you say?”

“No need to apologize to me, Sokka,” Iroh says kindly, “Zuko has told me all about the tumultuous few weeks you’ve both had. I imagine you must be very tired.”

“Yeah,” Sokka says, catching Zuko’s gaze for a second. He still looks confused, but now its tainted with something else. Something Sokka doesn’t know how to name. “I think we’re all pretty tired.”

“Understandably so. I had asked if you were going to be joining us on our tour of the South Pole,” Iroh says. “Zuko said that he is happy to show us around, but that he assumed you would be better suited at it – he said that you did an excellent job helping him acclimate when he first moved here.”

“No,” Sokka blurts out.

Zuko’s smile falls from his face. Sokka’s stomach _almost_ doesn’t drop with it. Almost.

“I just mean,” he tries to correct himself before anyone else can respond, “I um. I need to talk to uh – Suki. Right? Suki?”

Suki’s eyebrows are high on her forehead, but she nods, catching onto the slightly hysterical edge of Sokka’s voice. Spirits bless her. “Yeah, absolutely. We were going to meet to talk about –”

Well, he can only ask so much from her.

“ – to talk about security,” Sokka invents. Suki makes a quiet noise of exasperation beside him.

Zuko frowns. “Security?”

“Yep,” Sokka says, “You know, because we like – we don’t have guards here, like you do in the Fire Nation and I – I was – um Councilman Vinoq asked me to um, to look into that? And who better to ask than the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors, right?”

Sokka can tell from the puzzled look on Zuko’s face that he _knows_ that Sokka just pulled that out of his ass, but he doesn’t question it.

“Okay,” Zuko says, “So you’re. Talking now?”

“Right now,” Suki answers, looping Sokka’s arm in hers. “Urgent Kyoshi Warrior consultant meeting starting in five minutes.”

“That sounds important, Zuko,” Iroh says with a smile. “Let’s not keep Sokka and Suki any longer.”

Zuko’s still frowning, still looks _confused_ , but he nods. “Alright.”

“Zuko,” Veya says suddenly, “I’d be happy to help you show them around, if you want?”

Zuko looks like he wants to say no, but Iroh answers for him.

“That will be absolutely wonderful –?”

“Veya.”

Iroh smiles wider. “Veya. Thank you.”

And that’s that.

As the group moves to split up – Veya and Iroh chatting off to the side, Suki and Aang vanished into the crowd, to find Ty Lee and Katara, respectively – Zuko catches Sokka’s eye again. It hurts a bit, to look at him. It takes everything in Sokka not to look away.

“I’ll see you at dinner?” Zuko asks, and the _confusion_ is still there, in his voice. In the tension in his shoulders. In the way his hand twitches, as though to reach out for Sokka.

Sokka shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Sure.”

* * *

“Okay, so what’s _actually_ wrong with you?” Suki asks, rounding on Sokka the moment that they’re away from the slowly dispersing crowd and nearly to her and Ty Lee’s room.

He skids to a stop, turning towards Ty Lee for help.

She just shrugs at him. “It’s a fair question.”

“I –” Sokka starts, then stops. He doesn’t know _where_ to start, and though he adores Ty Lee, he really only wants to talk to Suki.

He wants to talk, he knows that, but he can’t just…talk. Sokka wants to hit something, if he’s being completely honest with himself, he wants to –

For the first time in hours, Sokka’s grin is almost entirely genuine.

“Suki, can we spar?”

Suki, unexpectedly, frowns at him.

“You’re avoiding Zuko so that I can kick your ass?”

Ty Lee gasps in horror. “ _You’re avoiding Zuko_?!”

“I’m _not_ – ” Sokka groans, “ – I’m not – that’s not what’s happening, okay? I just – can we have this conversation inside? Please?”

Suki’s frown doesn’t go away, but she nods. They walk the rest of the small distance to their room. Once they’re inside with the door shut firmly behind them, Sokka flops down on his back on their rug and throws his arms over his face.

“I just need to let off some steam, okay?” he explains, into his sleeve, “That’s all.”

No one answers, so Sokka lifts his arms away from his face. Suki and Ty Lee are both looking down at him – Ty Lee with deep concern and Suki with an almost appraising look.

“Fine,” Suki says finally, “but we’re doing it my way.”

Sokka groans. “ _Suki_ – ”

Suki looks away from him, as though he hadn’t spoken. “Ty Lee, can he borrow your uniform? And help him with his makeup, it’ll save time.”

Ty Lee grins wickedly. “I would _love to._ ” She skips towards their bathroom, vanishing behind the door.

“You’re evil,” Sokka tells Suki, glaring up at her.

“You asked to spar, we’re sparring,” Suki says, her tone almost bored. “You didn’t specify combat style.”

“Didn’t think I’d have to,” Sokka grumbles, sitting up.

Suki sits down on the floor in front of him, crosses her legs, and levels him with a look full of so much worry that Sokka flinches.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? For _real_?”

“No,” Sokka admits, “I’m not. But – I’d really rather Ty Lee…not be there. If that’s possible.”

Suki considers it for a moment. “You’re going to tell me _something_ though, right?”

Sokka shrugs “Kind of?” When Suki glares, he amends, “I’m going to try, seriously Sooks, it’s just – it’s really complicated, okay? But I need – I need to do something.”

Suki runs a hand through her hair and nods. “Okay – okay. I won’t push you but, you’re going to have to give me _something_ to work with here, Sokka.” When Sokka nods, Suki stands up, pinches the bridge of her nose, and adds, “Go sit on the bed and wait for Ty Lee.”

Sokka obeys, pushing himself off the ground and settling at the foot of the bed. He kicks his feet aimlessly, watching Suki’s journey around the room – picking up her fans, grabbing her headpiece from the small desk in the corner, and finally pausing in front of the wardrobe. She turns and gives Sokka a severe look.

“What?” Sokka asks.

“ _Close your eyes_.”

Sokka slaps his hands over his face and, for good measure, flops backwards onto the bed, so that he can only see the ceiling through the slim gaps between his fingers.

He recognizes that he _could_ drop his hands, but he doesn’t want to risk Suki’s wrath. And oddly, it’s kind of nice in the darkness.

Sokka closes his eyes and blocks out the slivers of light, submerging himself completely in the blackness. He sighs, perhaps a bit dramatically, because he hears Suki make a halfhearted exasperated noise across the room. She doesn’t say anything though, and Sokka is content to listen to the gentle rustling of fabric and the sound of his own heartbeat, thudding along in his head.

He thinks that it might be nice to stay here forever, in this peaceful void between his eyelids and the pressure of his hands against them. Maybe he’ll call off the sparring all together and just go back to his room – Zuko won’t be there, and Sokka can pull the blankets over his head, squeeze his eyes shut and _not_ think.

“Sokka, get up!”

Ty Lee grabbing one of his hands and tugging him back into a sitting position stops that plan before it can properly get started.

He keeps his eyes shut though – Suki hadn’t given the all clear.

“Can I look?” he asks, putting the hand that Ty Lee hasn’t taken back over his still closed eyes.

“ _Yes_ ,” he hears Suki grumble from across the room. “Not all of us take an hour to get ready, Sokka.”

Sokka drops his hand and glares at her. “I don’t take an –”

Ty Lee drops her Kyoshi Warrior uniform onto his lap – the weight of it shuts him up. “Go change, then I’ll do your makeup.”

By the time Sokka manages to get all the intricate pieces of the uniform in place – Ty Lee’s headpiece is far more complicated than the one Suki had lent him back on Kyoshi Island – Suki is fully made up. She’s leaning against the desk and tapping her foot impatiently.

“If I’d known you were going to take this long, I would’ve gone along with sword fighting,” Suki complains.

“Not too late to change your mind,” Sokka says, and she rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, no. Come sit down.”

Sokka sits back down on the bed next to Ty Lee, who’s waiting eagerly, brush already in hand.

As soon as Sokka is settled, Ty Lee reaches towards him – holding the brush, dipped in white, like a dagger – and, much more softly than he had honestly expected, begins to apply the face paint.

“Suki said you wanted to talk, just the two of you,” she says without preamble, in a voice that’s clearly meant to be casual.

“Yeah,” Sokka says slowly, “It’s just – it’s kind of a tricky conversation.”

Ty Lee frowns, her hand pausing with the brush pressed against Sokka’s cheek. She turns around and looks at Suki, who is watching both of them from her place by the desk. “Do you need to talk about _me_? Suki – are _we_ okay?”

Suki is in front of them in an instant.

“ _Babe_ ,” she says earnestly, grabbing Ty Lee’s face and dropping a kiss onto her forehead,  
“we are completely fine.”

Ty Lee grins as Suki pulls away, (and Sokka tries not to let the pang of jealousy he feels show on his face), then gets back to work. Until, a moment later, when her smile drops again.

“Wait, if _we’re_ okay, then – Sokka, are you and Zuko okay? Is something – ”

The panic rushing into his throat must show in his eyes, because Suki steps in before he can even start to formulate a response.

“Ty Lee, let him breathe,” she interjects, leveling Ty Lee with a look that says _if you don’t calm down Sokka is going to have a meltdown and it will be all your fault._

Which Sokka thinks is a bit harsh but not entirely untrue.

“Right,” Ty Lee mutters under her breath, then, louder, “Right. Okay. Sokka close your eyes.”

Sokka listens, and tries not to imagine the looks that the two of them are exchanging when they know he can’t see.

* * *

“Okay, seriously Sokka, what’s wrong with you? I swear to Kyoshi, this morning you were acting like nothing bad had ever happened in the history of the world, and now you’re acting like someone took a shit in your tea.”

Sokka is flat on his ass, against the cold stone of the courtyard, looking up at Suki after being knocked down by her for the – okay, it’s entirely possible that he’s lost track of how many times at this point.

They’ve been going at this for almost an hour now, and that’s _since_ the break they took for a quick dinner – they’d put in a good two hours before that. Sokka has managed to one-up Suki far fewer times than he’d admit to, but he _is_ still distracted. Still anxious. Still unable to keep his mind from wandering and wondering and dreading the inevitable _next time_ he has to be alone with Zuko. 

(Sokka’s leg had also started hurting, somewhere in the middle of the first two hours, but not so much that he needs to stop sparring. It’s fine. _He’s_ fine.

It’s not surprising at all that a flare up has started, when he thinks back to the physical exertion of yesterday’s hike, now with the added effort put into sparring stacked on top of it but it’s – it’s _fine_. It sucks a little bit, that he’s definitely _not_ going to even ponder the idea of asking Zuko to help with the pain later but – it’s fine. He can ignore it for now, and Zuko never needs to know.

Sokka makes a mental note to stop by Katara’s room at some point and ask for a quick magic water healing session. It’s not the _same_. But it’s something.)

Suki is staring down at him expectantly, arms crossed over her chest, winded slightly from their last round. She _had_ kept her promise – she hadn’t tried to get anything related to his emotional state out of him. Until now, apparently.

Every other time she’d knocked him on his ass before this time, she’d offered him a hand to pull him back up. This time it seems that he’s going to have to provide something in return first.

“I…it’s just. Zuko stuff,” Sokka answers, forcing himself to make eye contact with her.

Suki stares back at him, eyebrows drawn together. It’s clear from her expression that is not enough of an answer.

“Zuko stuff,” she repeats back to him, chewing on her lip contemplatively. “Okay. So. Are you and Zuko fighting?”

 _Are_ he and Zuko fighting? That’s…certainly a question. He supposes that for there to be a fight, Zuko would have to actually be aware of the fact that Sokka is upset with him. And…Sokka’s not really sure he’s fond of the idea of Zuko knowing the details of why he’s upset.

Sokka sighs, rubbing a hand over his leg then stopping abruptly. If Suki picks up on the fact that his leg is bugging him, she’s definitely not going to let the sparring continue.

Finally, he says, “Something like that.”

Suki smiles and reaches out her hand. Sokka grabs it and lets her pull him to his feet.

She doesn’t immediately go back into a fighting stance though. Sokka opens his mouth to argue, but she interrupts him.

“ _I_ need a break Sokka.”

Sokka looks at her properly – she’s breathing heavily and there’s sweat dripping from her forehead, painting a streaky line through the white of her makeup.

“Oh.” Sokka looks down. “Okay, that’s – okay. Sorry.”

Suki frowns. “It’s okay.”

She moves to sit down at the edge of the courtyard. Sokka follows her reluctantly, dropping down next to her.

She’s watching him carefully, like he’s something fragile. Like he’s going to snap at her the moment she asks a question.

Suki’s always been brave though, so, slowly, _carefully_ , she asks, “...Do you want to talk about it?”

Every part of Sokka’s brain is screaming _yes_ , _please, I need to talk about it – if I don’t talk about it, I’m probably going to lose my mind._

But instead, he answers, “No. Can we just keep sparring?”

Suki’s face twists into a grimace. “ _Sokka_.”

Sokka groans, just resisting the urge to put his face into his hands – he knows that Ty Lee will kill him if he messes up her perfect makeup application. He pushes his hands down into the ground next to him instead, centering himself on the sting of stone against the delicate skin of his palms.

Suki says nothing, waiting for him to speak.

Sokka closes his eyes and tilts his head up towards the sky. How can he say this without _saying_ it?

He thinks back to Suki’s first question – _are you and Zuko fighting_? Thinks about the fact that they _can’t_ fight, when Zuko doesn’t even know how badly he’s hurt Sokka. That’s somewhere to start.

When Sokka speaks, it’s in a whisper – almost like he doesn’t want Suki to hear it. Like he’s confessing an awful secret, and she’s the unfortunate soul who happens to be there to witness it.

“I just feel like Zuko doesn’t understand how much I care about him.”

Suki tugs at Sokka’s sleeve. He ignores it at first, but she doesn’t let up until he meets her concerned gaze.

“Sokka,” she says, eyes wide and kind, “I’m _sure_ that he does.”

Sokka once again resists the urge to slam his face into _something_.

“No, it’s not – ” he starts, “ – you wouldn’t understand.”

“Well, you could explain,” Suki says flatly, raising her eyebrows.

Sokka just shakes his head, closing his eyes again. “I can’t. I really can’t.”

Suki still looks troubled, but says, “Okay. Then can I say something?”

Sokka wants to tell her no. He wants to tell her to fuck off (but he’s not stupid, he values his life), wants to just run somewhere and yell at the sky. But he _can’t_ do that, because it would be rude, and because he’s too important and known to do anything like that in public. He had gotten lucky, after the council meeting, that only a _few_ people had seen his semi-public breakdown. Sokka isn’t going to let that happen again – clearly, letting his emotions control his actions gets him nowhere fast.

So, he takes a deep breath and meets Suki’s insistent gaze.

“...Sure.”

Suki grabs his hand and squeezes it. “From what I can see,” she says gently, “he’s just as crazy in love with you as you are with him. Neither of you are _particularly_ subtle, Sokka. It’s written all over your faces. So, whatever is wrong – and you don’t have to tell me – I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Sokka groans again. She doesn’t get it – and that isn’t her fault. She doesn’t have the context and Sokka certainly isn’t going to give it to her. She’s also not wrong though. Isn’t that exactly what he’s been trying to work through all day? Hasn’t his brain been trying to reconcile the Zuko that said he had no feelings for Sokka with the Zuko that Sokka had been _sure_ had been flirting back for the past two weeks? With the Zuko that had been _jealous_ of Veya? With the Zuko that insisted, emphatically, that he was Sokka’s person and Sokka was his?

But at the same time, choosing to believe unproven evidence over Zuko’s own words is…risky at best and stupidly disastrous at worst.

“I _guess_ ,” Sokka mutters, looking at the ground.

Suki lets go of his hand and smacks him across the shoulder.

“Ow!” Sokka yelps. “What was that for?”

“You’re being a dumbass,” Suki retorts. “Which is pretty sad, because you’re generally a genius.”

Sokka pretends to swoon and grins at her. “ _Wow_ , Sooks, you really know how to make my heart sing –”

She hits him again, harder, cutting his sentence off into a whine.

“ _What_?”

“ _Sokka_ ,” Suki chastises him, “if there is something that you think that Zuko doesn’t know – especially about your _feelings_ for him – and you _want_ him to know, then there is a really simple solution to fix that.”

Sokka stares at her blankly. “What?”

Suki hits him again, for good measure. “Fucking _tell_ him, you idiot.”

Oh.

 _Well_.

That’s certainly an idea.

Sokka rubs his arm and shoots her a wounded look. “I liked it better when you were calling me a genius.”

Suki rolls her eyes. “If you want your genius title back, I invite you to try something called _openly_ _communicating with your boyfriend._ You shouldn’t just _assume_ he knows how you feel – and even if he does, everyone likes to hear it sometimes, you know?”

Sokka shrugs because, well, he doesn’t have a safe response to _that_.

Suki rolls her eyes again. “Honestly, I don’t know how you two have managed almost seven months of dating – in _secret_ , no less – with the communication skills of teenagers.”

Sokka snorts and doesn’t answer. If only she knew.

He stands, offering her his hand, which she takes with a playfully exasperated look.

“So, are you ready for another –?” Sokka starts to ask, but he’s interrupted by a strangled noise from the courtyard entrance.

They both turn quickly – Suki sliding into a defensive position – to find Zuko standing, frozen, eyes wide and face flushed.

“Oh,” Suki says, standing straight again, “hey, Zuko.”

Zuko shakes his head, as though to wake himself from a daydream. “Uh – hi, Suki.” Then, after an uncomfortably long pause, “Hi, Sokka.”

“Hi,” Sokka answers, far too quickly.

Suki suppresses a snort. “Fuck, you weren’t kidding,” she says under her breath, just for Sokka to hear.

Sokka elbows her in the side.

“I thought you were showing Iroh and Azula around?” Sokka asks, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Zuko.

“I – I was –” Zuko stammers – _what is wrong with him_?, “ – but we got back an hour ago. You two missed dinner. Katara sent me to come find you.”

Sokka meets Suki’s eyes and she looks almost _amused_. Fine. Whatever. He can act _normal_. Or, the version of normal that Suki’s expecting, at least. He focuses his gaze on Zuko and answers, “We ate earlier, baby. We were kind of busy doing, you know.” Sokka gestures down at his borrowed uniform helpfully.

Zuko startles slightly, at Sokka’s words. After a pause, he says, “Mm.”

Sokka watches as Zuko’s eyes follow the path that his hands had taken, gesturing downwards. Zuko’s gaze lingers, somewhere near the ground, for an unreasonably long time before he looks back up – and he looks _stunned_.

“Zuko, are you okay?” Suki asks, genuine concern in her voice.

“I’m. Yeah,” Zuko breathes. It’s so quiet Sokka almost doesn’t hear him. Sokka says nothing, and Suki just watches Zuko patiently, so he adds, his voice higher than usual, “I’ve never um. I didn’t know – Sokka, I didn’t know that you had a Kyoshi Warrior uniform?”

“It’s Ty Lee’s,” Sokka explains.

Zuko nods, though, it’s so mechanical it seems more like a violent jerk. “Ah. That makes sense.”

Sokka glances at Suki, and her eyebrows have climbed her entire forehead. “You sure you’re okay, Zuko?” she asks again, no longer attempting to mask her amusement with concern.

Zuko nods again, meeting her eyes before looking at Sokka. “Yep. I’m totally fine. So. I will – if you already ate dinner, um – I’ll see you later? When you’re done with, uh – this?”

Sokka’s mouth feels dry as he responds, “Um. Yeah.”

Zuko nods, for a third time. Sokka’s starting to worry he might hurt his neck. “Cool. Great. I’m gonna – bye.”

And he turns on his heel and hurries back inside.

As soon as it’s clear that he’s gone, Suki bursts out laughing.

“Oh – my – fucking –” she gasps, and it’s Sokka’s turn to smack her in the arm. Under any other circumstance, that would’ve had him flung onto the ground, but she’s too preoccupied with cackling to retaliate.

“Shut _up_ ,” Sokka says, heat rising in his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Suki wheezes, “I mean, I’m not but – okay, I’m – Sokka. Let’s go change and then you can talk to Zuko about whatever _that_ was, and the other thing.”

Sokka glares at her and waits for her to calm down. Finally, after what feels like an _eternity_ , she calms down enough that only a few giggles slip through.

And Sokka feels very suddenly afraid. Suki’s right. There is…Zuko may have said one thing, but his actions said another. And Sokka isn’t the type of person to throw out an entire theory based on _one_ piece of contradictory evidence. But, he’s not ready to talk to Zuko _quite_ yet.

“Can we go a few more rounds first?”

Suki snorts and drops back into a defensive stance.

* * *

Sokka admittedly stalls on the whole “going back to his room” thing a lot longer than is entirely necessary. But hey, he’s _admitting_ that he’s stalling, and since _admitting_ things is apparently going to be the theme of the day, that’s a start, right?

Also, the stalling is not wholly his fault.

Yes, Sokka takes his time wandering back to Suki’s room after she thoroughly kicks his ass two more times, but that’s only partially because he’s nervous about whatever conversation he’s slowly heading towards.

His leg is, well. It’s not _great_.

He thinks that Suki might notice – he spots her giving him a worried look out of the corner of her eye – but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t comment on how slow he’s walking either, for which he’s grateful.

By the time they do get back to her room though, she seems to be in a bit of a rush to kick him out. Ty Lee greets them cheerily, from where she’s flopped down on their bed, but Suki barely says hello before she’s hurriedly throwing Sokka a towel, instructing him to wipe his makeup off and change in the bathroom, and giving him an incredibly impatient stare.

Look, Sokka might be a bit oblivious, but he can take a hint.

So, as quickly as possible, he changes back into his clothes from earlier and hastily wipes the makeup from his face. He probably missed some of it, based on the bemused look Ty Lee gives him as he hurries back out into the hall, but he can fix that once he gets back to his room.

His room.

Where Zuko is…waiting? 

Sokka stops in his tracks, struck by a sudden thought. What if Zuko doesn’t plan on sleeping in the same room tonight?

Is he even going to be there waiting?

Well, yeah. Probably.

He _had_ said that he would see Sokka later. And he isn’t the one who’s been having a complete breakdown the entire day, because _he’s_ not the one that had his heart unexpectedly broken.

Today is just another normal day for Zuko. Aside from having to put up with Sokka acting like an asshole-ish freak. Which is something Sokka plans on promptly apologizing for, assuming their conversation goes well.

If not? Sokka is once again considering the whole asking Toph to earthbend him underground idea.

Sokka takes a deep breath, scrubs his hands over his face, and exhales. It’s quiet in the hall. Dinner had, apparently, ended long ago and there isn’t anyone lingering, taking the long way back to their rooms. Sokka leans against the wall but doesn’t sit down – the pain in his leg hasn’t reached an unbearable level yet, but he knows that standing back up will be more difficult than he has time to deal with right now if he indulges himself.

In. Out.

It’s Zuko. It’s just _Zuko_.

He knows how to talk to Zuko. He talks to Zuko all of the time.

Sokka forces himself to focus on what Suki had said. Apparently, Zuko having feelings for _him_ was as obvious to her as Sokka having feelings for Zuko. And Sokka knows, now, that he’s had feelings for Zuko for much longer than he’d originally thought.

(He’s not quite sure _how_ long, or how deeply, but those are questions for if and when Zuko tells him that he has feelings in return.)

Logically, if Suki had correctly observed and understood Sokka’s feelings, then her observation of Zuko having the same feelings is solidly backed up. Everything Sokka has seen Zuko do, plus the fact that Suki – and _all_ of their friends, that first night – had been entirely unsurprised to learn that they were together _meant_ something. It _means_ something.

What doesn’t make sense is the fact that Zuko had, bluntly, assuredly, irrevocably denied having feelings for Sokka at all.

Well not _at all_. But, presently.

Sokka groans into his hands.

It doesn’t make any _sense_. Why would he…if Zuko didn’t mean it, then why would he say it? If Zuko _did_ mean it, then why did he act like – well, like he _did_ have feelings for Sokka? Deep, serious, unconditional feelings –

Those words, those permanent, _once you say them you’re stuck here forever_ words, perk up excitedly in the back of Sokka’s head. He shoves them back down, Suki’s words flashing in front of his eyes in their stead.

_Fucking tell him, you idiot._

Sokka pushes himself off the wall and straightens his shoulders. He’s _going_ to tell him.

If it all blows up in his face, then so be it. Whatever that feels like can’t be worse than the clawing anxiety that’s been tearing his chest apart since this morning.

He’s going to tell him.

He’s _going_ to _tell_ him.

It feels like no time at all, Sokka’s journey down the hall and to his room. He’s in front of the door before he can talk himself down or contemplate running away. He takes another steadying breath, hears Suki’s voice – _tell him_ – in his head, and pushes the door open.

His breath catches in his throat.

Zuko looks up, his expression slightly dazed, from where he’s standing, by Sokka’s desk. He’s half dressed – because of course he is, because why _wouldn’t_ the universe present a shirtless Zuko to Sokka in his moment of extreme distress – his pajama top in his hands. Or it was – he drops it to the floor, as Sokka continues to stare at him in surprise.

“Oh – um – hi,” Zuko stammers, watching Sokka as though he’s going to pounce at him.

Which.

Sokka’s eyes flick up and down Zuko’s form.

Well.

“Hi,” Sokka echoes, and his voice comes out breathless.

They stare at each other for several beats more and the silence feels oppressively heavy. Sokka knows that he needs to break it. He needs to _talk._ But he can’t stop looking at the gentle cascading of Zuko’s hair against his bare shoulders, at the defined muscular lines of his arms, at his _fucking_ hipbones, at –

“Sokka?”

Zuko’s still staring, almost cautiously. His tongue flicks out, wetting his lips, and Sokka feels himself go red.

Words. He’s supposed to be saying words right now. Communicating.

Zuko takes a small step forward. Sokka takes a step backward and bangs his back into the door.

He needs to talk. If Zuko gets any closer, Sokka’s not entirely sure if that will be possible.

He needs to stay away from Zuko. He wants nothing more than for Zuko to come closer.

Zuko takes another step forward, head tilted slightly. Worried. He’s worried about Sokka, which is entirely fair, because he’s acting like a lunatic.

He needs to talk. He needs to _tell_ him.

Sokka doesn’t retreat. Maybe this will be easier, if he’s right in front of Zuko. Sokka walks forward – taking care not to put too much pressure on his left side – and closes the gap between them.

Still though, it’s a little difficult to meet Zuko’s eyes.

Up close, his concern is palpable. Up close, Sokka can see every fleck of brown, green, yellow in Zuko’s eyes. Up close, Sokka sees something he’s never noticed before – the lightest dusting of freckles on Zuko’s shoulders. His eyes focus there, maybe too long, because Zuko suddenly murmurs –

“Sokka.”

Sokka glances up, meeting Zuko’s gaze, and it’s far more intense than Sokka had expected. He feels almost unnervingly _seen_. The words in the back of his head search for somewhere to hide. Just in case.

The space between them feels very suddenly charged when Zuko lifts his hand, letting it hover for a moment in front of Sokka’s face. His eyes drop away from Sokka’s – it seems like he’s unsure of his movements. His forehead is furrowed, eyes narrowed in confusion, as though he’s watching his hand move of its own accord. Zuko almost seems surprised, eyebrow lifting minutely, when his thumb brushes gently along the edge of Sokka’s bottom lip.

“You’ve got, um,” Zuko mumbles quietly, his eyes flickering up to meet Sokka’s, “some lipstick, still. Just here.”

Sokka isn’t sure who starts it.

It’s like gravity, except it isn’t. The pull of the earth, until this point a constant, feels meaningless, a trivial thing, really, when held up against the longing in Zuko’s eyes. What’s centrifugal force compared to the way Zuko’s hand clenches around the fabric at Sokka’s hip? To the way Zuko tugs him forward, to the way Zuko’s thumb slides from Sokka’s bottom lip to his cheekbone? Tracing the indentation there. Waiting. Wanting.

It’s _like_ gravity, except it isn’t, when Sokka reaches one hand out and threads his fingers through Zuko’s hair, when his other hand slides up Zuko’s side to rest at his waist, shaking a little from nerves or excitement or the overwhelming magnetic attraction of Zuko.

It’s like gravity, except it _isn’t_ , because Sokka isn’t being pulled against his will; he isn’t being dragged along by some unseen force of nature.

Nothing is unconsciously compelling him to lean his head into Zuko’s touch, nothing at all. In fact, there’s something like guilt, lingering just below the surface, just below the wanting that’s filled almost every square inch of Sokka’s senses.

Sokka knows, somewhere, deep in his mind, that he shouldn’t. That if he lets himself fall into this abyss, lets the gravity drag him down, it could swallow them both whole.

But Zuko wants to.

Sokka can see it in the way Zuko‘s gaze is wavering between his eyes and his lips. Can feel it, when the hand occupied with outlining the peaks and valleys of Sokka’s face drops, to join the other at his hips, and urge him, ever so gently, closer.

And Sokka wants to.

 _Spirits_ , he wants to.

So he leans forward, and _he does, he does_ , _he does_.

When their lips meet this time, it’s nothing like any of the other times they had kissed. Before, one of them had always been holding back – or, okay. It had _mostly_ been Zuko holding back.

That restraint is gone now.

It’s instantaneous, the way that Zuko pulls Sokka against him, tilting his head immediately into the kiss and gripping Sokka’s hips tightly. Sokka can feel it – the same desperate want from before, and he can’t help but thinking _yes_ , _this is it, whatever Zuko had said was just a fucking fluke, and this is –_

His mind goes blank of any thought when Zuko’s tongue slips into his mouth.

Sokka can’t help the quiet whimper that he lets out, nor he can stop himself from gripping tightly at Zuko’s hair in surprise. He’s never kissed Zuko like this before – Sokka’s not sure that he’s ever kissed _anyone_ like this before – but it feels like muscle memory when he pushes Zuko backwards, using his grip on his waist to turn his body slightly and press him back against the desk.

Zuko makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a surprised laugh and Sokka swallows it, pressing him back further. There isn’t anywhere to _go_ though, so Sokka just ends up closer to Zuko.

Sokka can feel the _heat_ of Zuko everywhere – their chests pushed together, Zuko’s fingers branding his hips with a searing grip, and, most overwhelmingly, the sensation of his mouth, hot and wet and so overpowering that Sokka wonders if this – kissing Zuko properly, not for show – is what drowning feels like.

But Sokka is not unmoored, not floating adrift. He isn’t trapped in Zuko’s orbit - he’s there willingly, desperately, even.

He needs _more_. The stupid fucking desk – but – oh.

With a surge of confidence from spirits knows where, Sokka drops the hand in Zuko’s hair down to his waist, tightens his hold and, without warning, pushes Zuko up and on to the surface of the desk.

Zuko makes a surprised sound, in the brief moment that their lips are separated, his hands dislodged from Sokka’s hips. He wastes no time, though – he surges forward, grabbing the back of Sokka’s neck and hauling their mouths back together. Sokka melts – literally, metaphorically, spiritually – back into it, back into _Zuko_.

Somewhere, distantly, Sokka’s conscience reminds him that they’re supposed to be talking. He’s never felt less like talking in his entire life.

Sokka moves forward at the same time he pulls Zuko towards him – he takes up the space that Zuko had once occupied and tugs Zuko as close as possible, close enough that his thighs are hanging off the edge of the desk and wrapped around Sokka.

Sokka pulls away for a moment, but he’s kissing Zuko’s neck before a second passes, like his lips are protesting the idea of touching anything but Zuko, like not even the air is worthy. Not compared to him.

Sokka hears Zuko make a quiet, desperate sound and feels the skin under his lips flare with heat simultaneously. The part of his brain that’s still forming coherent thought files _that_ away for later.

The rest of Sokka’s brain focuses on trailing wet kisses down Zuko’s body – at his shoulders, on the freckles there, at his collarbone, at his waist, at his _fucking_ hip –

Sokka doesn’t realize that he’s slowly started sinking to his knees until a sharp pain shoots up his calf in protest. He grimaces, grips Zuko’s thighs to steady himself, and covers his hiss of pain with a sigh and a –

“ _Baby_.”

Zuko tenses under his touch.

Sokka looks up, startled, and finds Zuko staring at him in – well, not _horror_ , but definitely something close to that.

Sokka stands abruptly, ignores the way his leg throbs at the suddenness of it, and pulls his hands away from Zuko’s thighs as quickly as possible. He takes a step back, for good measure.

“Zuko?” Sokka asks, into the silence. “Are you – are you okay?”

Zuko doesn’t answer at first. He’s still balancing precariously on the edge of the desk. It almost seems like he’s stuck there, _frozen_ , unable to move his body as he teeters on the edge of speech. 

“Zuko?” Sokka asks again, forcing himself to ignore the way his heart is pounding in his ears. He needs to actually be able to _hear_ Zuko, if he chooses to answer him. He has to answer. He can’t just sit there.

Zuko inhales sharply, and his exhale sounds almost painful, the way it stutters out of his mouth. When he speaks, he looks up at the ceiling instead of at Sokka. “I – I think we should – I – we need to stop.”

“Okay,” Sokka says quickly, “I’m sorry if I – I didn’t mean to –”

“It’s okay,” Zuko interrupts him, still not looking, “It’s okay, don’t apologize –”

“It’s _not_ okay,” Sokka insists, “if I made you uncomfortable, or pushed you, or –”

“ _Sokka_ ,” Zuko says loudly, finally looking at him. His shoulders are rigid and his eyes look – _fuck_ – wet.

When it’s clear that Sokka isn’t going to interrupt him again, he says quietly, “It’s – it’s okay. I understand that – I know that you’re – I mean, we _talked_ about, but I didn’t – I – ” Zuko stops himself, looking down at his lap.

Sokka doesn’t try to offer up anything in response. He’s not sure what he _would_ say.

Eventually, Zuko looks back up, and this time he just looks. Tired.

“Can we just – can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Sokka wants to say no. Wants to force Zuko to explain, wants to say everything that he was supposed to say before he’d gotten distracted.

But Zuko looks exhausted and hurt and – and though he doesn’t know the details of _why_ , that’s Sokka’s fault.

So, he nods weakly. “Yeah. We can talk about it tomorrow. Of course.”

Zuko looks away, blinking rapidly. “Okay.”

They don’t speak, as they make their way over to the bed. Sokka wonders if he should ask if Zuko wants to go back to his room for the night. But he doesn’t want that – more than anything, he doesn’t want Zuko to leave – and Zuko doesn’t offer up the idea. Sokka keeps his mouth shut.

They still don’t speak, as they settle under the covers. Zuko stays on his side, facing away from Sokka, his pillow tugged as far to his side as possible.

Sokka tries his very best not to let that crush him.

His leg is bothering him even more now, the pain definitely veering on the side of unbearable. But he’s not going to – he can deal with it, tonight. He turns on his side and tries to find a position that isn’t completely agonizing.

Sokka’s bed has never felt _this_ big. Not even when he’s slept in it alone.

* * *

At first, Sokka thinks that he’s having another nightmare.

All of the usual elements are there. A burning, excruciating pain is shooting through his leg. There’s _red_ behind his eyelids. His heart is in his stomach, a sense of unknowable dread sending chills over his entire body.

There’s also fire.

What?

Sokka jolts awake and groans – the suddenness of his movement displaces his leg from the semi-comfortable position he had finally managed to find before drifting off to sleep. He doesn’t open his eyes to the usual, thick-curtained darkness.

His room is aflame.

Or – no –

It takes a second, but Sokka processes it –

Zuko is firebending in his room. Because –

There is another person _in his room_.

Sokka throws himself out of bed – he lands _hard_ on his leg, but ignores it, ducking to grab the hunting knife he keeps under his bed.

“Zuko, what the fuck?” he demands, flinging himself towards where Zuko is fighting someone – Sokka can’t see who. Other than the occasional flash of fire from Zuko’s hands, the room is dark.

“It’s – someone’s – they tried to – ” Zuko tries to explain, and Sokka interrupts him.

“Explain later! Don’t get killed now!”

Sokka surges forward to where the shape of the intruder is – they must be in all black, because he can’t see anything but the flash of the whites of their eyes – slashing his knife through the air. He doesn’t hit anything and swears in frustration, moving backwards as Zuko steps forward, pushing another blast of fire into the darkness.

“Sokka, let me –”

“I can _help_ –” Sokka argues, stopping mid-sentence when another shock of pain shoots up his leg, “ – _fuck_.”

Zuko pauses. Just for a second.

“Sokka?”

It’s a second too long.

The intruder lunges forward. Sokka sees the glint of silver in the air. Watches as Zuko stumbles. Makes the choice to grab him before he falls as the intruder slips into the darkness.

Later, Sokka will remember that the intruder’s eyes were blue; that he had seen, in the light of Zuko’s fire, that the broken handle of his swung open door was frozen in slowly melting ice; that he could’ve _sworn_ the small amount of face he could see had been painfully familiar.

Later, Sokka will berate himself for being such a heavy fucking sleeper.

Right now though, Sokka can’t process anything that isn’t Zuko. Zuko’s eyes shut, not in rest, but in –

Zuko, unmoving, with his head in Sokka’s lap.

Zuko, the handle of the red and gold dagger glinting threateningly from where its blade has made a home in his side.

Zuko, warm and _alive._ He’s still _alive._

Sokka doesn’t hear Katara arrive. He doesn’t see Hakoda and Aang, both with minor injuries, rush in behind her. 

He’ll remember that later.

Sokka _does_ feel Katara try to tug Zuko away from him. He knows that he tries to push her away, half out of confusion, half out of fear – fear of not being able to feel Zuko warm and solid and still _breathing_ against him.

Hakoda grabs at his arms, forcing him to let Katara lay Zuko flat on the floor. Dimly, as though from very far away, Sokka sees the familiar blue glow of Katara’s waterbending. He doesn’t process it. He will later. As of now, in the absence of Zuko’s warmth, Sokka is frozen in place.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [insert amy adams hysterically crying and laughing gif here]
> 
> please lodge your complaints in the comments and/or on [tumblr](https://fruitysokka.tumblr.com/)


	9. but it wasn't true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **please read this note before starting the chapter!**
> 
> HEY. hello. hi friends. how are you. i hope that you're doing well. if you take a look at the chapter count you will see that i upped it by one. this is now an eleven chapter fic! 
> 
> that is because ... well... this is NOT the chapter 9 i had originally planned. in fact, if it was possible to do such a thing on ao3, i would call this chapter 8.5. this is a **bonus chapter**! 
> 
> so! without further ado, please enjoy zuko's point of view of that whole kiss thing that happened last chapter. (:

Sokka has always been almost impressively terrible at keeping his emotions under wraps.

Zuko is more than aware of that fact. Sokka wears his heart on his sleeve. Or more accurately, his face. He’s – and it’s cliché, Zuko _knows_ that, he can hear Sokka teasing him for thinking it at all, but it’s _true_ – an open book.

Zuko’s _favorite_ book.

He’s flipped through the pages more times than he count. Memorized every line. Drawn hearts in the margins.

Sokka had commented once that it should be _obvious_ when someone’s read a book more than once, that there is no point in leaving a book untouched and perfectly preserved, not if it’s well-loved. (Katara had vehemently disagreed and smacked Sokka in the head for dog-earing one of hers).

Everything _about_ Sokka is dog-eared in Zuko’s mind. Every grin shot casually in his direction thoroughly annotated, every brush of their hands underlined in ink, every whispered inside joke well-worn, read over and over and over again.

All of it is entrenched so deeply in Zuko’s mind that he doesn’t need the text in front of him to recall it. So deeply that he can lay in the dark, in the quiet, and read it to himself again – he knows every word by heart.

Well-loved, indeed.

It’s something that Zuko has always been secretly, quietly proud of – his ability to _get_ Sokka, better than anyone else. Sure, Sokka’s emotions aren’t exactly difficult to catch, but there’s a difference between understanding that Sokka’s in a _mood_ and understanding what he’s really thinking. Zuko _knows_ the subtext, the hidden meaning, the nudge, wink, and a side eye that no one else catches.

Or, he had _thought_ that he did.

Now? He’s never been more confused.

Zuko sighs heavily and flops backwards onto Sokka’s bed. Squeezes his eyes shut. Opens them again.

He picks a random spot on the ceiling, focuses on it, and tries to replay the day in his head. The images come fast – lightning strikes, each one reverberating from a place deep within Zuko’s chest, painful and overwhelming and utterly mystifying.

Sokka’s smile that morning, teasing Zuko. Calling him _babe_.

Sokka beaming at him, when Zuko caught up to him in the hallway before the reception.

The dazed – but not unhappy – look that Sokka had given him, after Zuko had been stupid enough to kiss him with no one watching.

At that point, Zuko had felt himself actually believing the story that had been unfolding. Believing the possibility that Sokka might actually like him _back_.

It was a sudden change of course from the story Zuko had become accustomed to – loving Sokka from afar, never expecting more than that – but he had let himself hope, let himself dream that maybe, just maybe, he’d guessed the ending wrong.

Zuko has good instincts. He should never have doubted them.

The next image flashes in front of his eyes before his brain can decide to be polite enough to skip it.

Sokka choking on his tea, horror and shock splashed across his face when Azula had – well.

And then, quicker than Zuko can even feel distressed about that –

Sokka in the room off the hall, as Zuko lies to his face, his expression shifting from expectant to confused to –

Well, that’s where Zuko gets stuck.

He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to play it back again, but it’s just –

Sokka smiling, Sokka holding his hand, Sokka _kissing_ him, Sokka upset, Sokka confused, Sokka happy, Sokka, Sokka, _Sokka_ –

Zuko groans, sits back up, and rests his head in his hands.

Sokka’s room is quiet, almost uncomfortably so. It makes Zuko want to hit something.

Instead, he stands up. Maybe…pacing will help him figure this out?

(Stupid. But it’s better than just stewing in silence.)

Rather than try to replay everything _before_ that moment, Zuko skips over it and tries to focus on the rest of the day. The _after_.

Sokka had been quiet, distant, and most importantly – the detail that’s been eating at Zuko’s inside for hours –

Sokka had looked _hurt_.

And that didn’t make any _sense_ , because there isn’t any reason for _Sokka_ to be hurt over what he thought was a five year old crush. But, whether it made sense or not, hurt is _exactly_ what Sokka had been.

There were plenty of signs – his fists clenched tightly by his side as they walked back to the reception, the way he kept avoiding Zuko’s gaze before they split up, the fact that he had suggested splitting up at all. (Zuko pointedly ignores the nervous pang in his stomach at the thought.)

And, most confusingly, when Zuko had smiled at Sokka in greeting, he had grimaced in response.

Zuko would be lying if he said that hadn’t made his stomach drop like a boulder.

And it just – it didn’t make any sense! Because Sokka wouldn’t lie to him – Sokka _doesn’t_ lie to him – and Sokka had _said_ that everything is fine, that he doesn’t care about the crush, that it’s “a non-issue.” Whatever _that_ means.

But his words don’t match up with his actions – glowering at Zuko, avoiding him, _lying_ about needing to “talk to Suki about security,” just to get out of spending time with him.

Sokka doesn’t lie to him, he _wouldn’t_ , but –

Maybe if he was trying to spare Zuko’s feelings, old though he pretended that they were –

“ _Fuck_ ,” Zuko mutters under his breath, stopping mid-pace and shoving his face into his hands. “Fuck.”

He never should have told Sokka anything, he should have just laughed at Azula and gone along with it. If he had done that, then he would have given himself more time to think of a way out of the trap in which Azula had unintentionally ensnared him. Sokka _had_ played along, it had just been Zuko and his big stupid impulsive mouth jumping headfirst in front of a problem – or, it seems, creating a problem where there possibly wasn’t one in the first place. It’s not like Sokka had asked for clarification, Zuko had just decided to give it, unprompted. Because he’s a fucking idiot. And now he’ll never know if this situation could have been avoided entirely – it’s not like hasn’t managed to keep his feelings for Sokka a secret for the past six years. He couldn’t have kept his mouth shut for a couple of hours?

Zuko could have – _should_ have – at least given himself some time to think of a slightly _better_ way to explain himself. If he’d kept his mouth shut, then Sokka wouldn’t have been angry, and they’d have been stuck in the reception and then stuck on the tour and then stuck in dinner and they wouldn’t have had to talk about any of this until, well –

Until _now_. 

(Not that Zuko could have exactly told the truth, in this alternate universe where Sokka isn’t angry with him, but – he could’ve at least come up with something slightly less disastrous to say than what he _had_ said.)

There’s a certain kind of pain that comes with loving Sokka. It’s not an unfamiliar ache, it hasn’t been startling in years. It’s almost comforting somehow, the predictability of it. The tide goes in and out. Sokka smiles and Zuko aches.

And Zuko – Zuko is _fine_ with that. He’s made his peace with it. He knows how to deal with it. Knows how to look away at just the right moment, to make sure he can hide the yearning that’s constantly gnawing at his insides.

But recently – ever since this entire mess started – Zuko’s façade has been cracking. It was easier, when Sokka was just accidentally making Zuko’s stomach go all warm and tingly. As it turns out, Sokka flirting on purpose is a lot harder to ignore.

Especially when there are voices whispering to Zuko that Sokka might mean it – that Sokka _meaning_ it is even an option.

But, no. Whatever signs that could have possibly been interpreted as Sokka having feelings for him – a ridiculous idea, one Zuko never should have listened to – had all been disproven the moment Azula had opened her mouth.

So it doesn’t _matter_.

Zuko’s brain feels fuzzy. It has all day. He had _tried_ to pay attention on Azula and Iroh’s tour around the South Pole. _Honestly_. But – and he’d never, ever admit this – he’s secretly incredibly grateful that Veya had volunteered to help. He wasn’t much use to anyone, unable to think of anything that wasn’t Sokka’s tense shoulders, his heated glare, his deliberate avoidance of Zuko’s eyes.

(Vaguely, Zuko thinks that Veya had done a great job, taking care to show Iroh and Azula everything, constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure they were following, shooting Zuko frequent looks of concern. There’s not enough room in Zuko’s mushy stressed out head to think about that for more than five seconds, though.)

Dinner wasn’t much better.

Zuko is pretty sure that Katara’s suggestion to go look for Sokka and Suki was out of pity, or a desperate desire to liven back up the conversation dragged down by Zuko’s dingy aura (Ty Lee’s words), not out of genuine concern for their whereabouts.

Zuko’s not entirely sure if he wouldn’t have been better off never finding them. Because finding them had been –

Well.

Look. It’s hard enough for Zuko to pretend to date Sokka while not making it painfully obvious that he’s been in overwhelming, irreversible, undying love with him for over half a decade on a _normal_ day, but what the _fuck_ is he _expected_ to do in the face of –

Zuko never could have guessed that he was going to find Sokka in full Kyoshi Warrior attire.

He also never could have guessed that it would affect him like _that._

And then Sokka had the _nerve_ to not even seem upset with him anymore – if he’d looked angry, Zuko would’ve been able to come up with an excuse to leave immediately, but Sokka had just looked…confused? Shocked? Stressed, maybe?

Zuko can’t remember, honestly, what he had said in that moment – it’s all a blur of red and white face paint and deep emerald robes and surprised blue eyes – but he remembers what Sokka had said. Remembers it like a brand, permanently stamped on his brain.

Of course Sokka _had_ to call him “baby”.

(How many times had he done it now? Five? Six? Zuko has started to lose count. It’s not like keeping a catalogue of the number of times he’s needed to shake himself – reminding himself that none of this is real, that Sokka’s never going to call him that and _mean_ it – makes any of this easier. It’s not like it would make Sokka cut it _out_ – not that he has any reason to, not that Zuko could ever tell him how absolutely insane it drives him.)

And then, finally, Zuko managed to come up with an excuse (he assumes anyways – he can’t remember what he said no matter how hard he tries) and ran. He hadn’t _heard_ Suki laugh, but he’s fairly certain, based on her barely concealed amusement, that she was two seconds away from a full on hysterical breakdown.

And now Zuko is…here.

Pacing around Sokka’s room. Waiting. For what?

Fuck if he knows.

He needs to do something productive, because laying on Sokka’s bed didn’t help, and pacing hasn’t helped, and going over and over and over every awful, gut-wrenching moment of uncertainty is _definitely_ not helping.

It _is_ late. Late enough that Zuko could reasonably put his pajamas on, slip into bed, and pretend to be asleep when Sokka arrives.

No. That’s stupid.

He could go back to _his_ room and avoid this all together, but –

 _No_. Zuko had told Sokka, promised him, that he would see him later. He’s not going to run away from _Sokka_.

Even if the thought of being alone with him, for the first time since that morning, has Zuko’s insides twisted in fear.

Zuko can change into his pajamas. That’s a perfectly normal thing to do, and maybe it’ll hint to Sokka that whatever conversation they’re going to have – _if_ they are going to have a conversation at all – can be a short one. Right. This is a good idea.

“This is a good idea,” Zuko says out loud to himself, then groans. Talking to himself is rarely a sign of good things to come.

Zuko shakes his head and walks over to Sokka’s desk. His pajamas are folded neatly on top of Sokka’s various scattered belongings. He strips quickly – after all, it had been nearly an hour since he’d left Sokka and Suki in the courtyard, and he isn’t entirely sure how much more alone time he has left. He’s just managed to tug his pajama pants on, the cold air against his bare chest mere seconds away from being swapped for the shirt in his hand, when the bedroom door slams open.

Zuko looks up in surprise.

Sokka’s standing in the doorway, frozen in place, as the door swings shut behind him.

He looks startled – his entire body is tense, fists clenched near his side like he’s expecting a fight, and even from across the room, Zuko can tell that his breathing is short. It’s almost like Sokka hadn’t expected Zuko to be here. _Should_ Zuko be here?

“Oh –” Zuko says warily, “– um – hi?” 

He means it like a question, but he thinks it comes out too stilted to be understood that way. Zuko vaguely notices that his hands are now empty, but he doesn’t look away from Sokka. He watches, carefully, as Sokka’s fists slowly release, as he drops his shoulders, and as his gaze drags up and down Zuko’s body.

It feels like it’s been hours when Sokka meets Zuko’s eyes again. When he does, he looks a bit like he’s run face first into a wall.

“Hi,” Sokka finally answers, breathless and nervous and still watching Zuko like he isn’t quite sure what to make of him.

Zuko just manages to push down the hysterical sound that rises up in his throat.

Sokka is staring at him, eyes wide and brow furrowed, and Zuko is struck with the sudden fear that he _knows_. That it doesn’t matter, really, what Zuko had said that morning. That Sokka _knows_ what he’s thinking. That every deep flush, every early morning quietly detaching himself from Sokka’s arm, every kiss he’d returned a bit too enthusiastically – Sokka hasn’t just been brushing it all off because it didn’t matter.

Sokka’s just – being Sokka. Trying to act polite. Trying to let Zuko down easy, to save him from shame and embarrassment. 

Zuko feels abruptly certain that Sokka knows what he’s thinking right now – that he can see the way that Zuko is unconsciously tracing the outline of him with his eyes, that he knows that Zuko’s just barely suppressing the urge to drop his gaze, because looking at Sokka _hurts_. That really, Zuko wants nothing more than to stare at Sokka forever.

He wants to run and hide.

But –

But Sokka doesn’t look angry.

He doesn’t even look annoyed.

Sokka’s chewing on his lip, his eyes are wide, and he keeps clasping his hands together like he doesn’t know where to put them.

He looks _scared_. He looks terrified, and Zuko is terrified too – there’s an aching in every corner of his body reminding him that this is dangerous – but his worry, his _love_ for Sokka, roots him to the spot. 

It always does.

Against his better judgment, Zuko doesn’t run. 

Against every instinct telling him _no, no, no_ , _protect_ y _ourself_ , _don’t do this_ , he stays. 

Zuko can’t help but wonder – does Sokka know? Not that Zuko has feelings for him (though Zuko hopes desperately that he had maybe managed to quash down any ideas about that), but that, well – 

Does he know that Zuko is caught, permanently, in his orbit? Does he know that there is no amount of fear, no animalistic instinct to _save his own skin_ strong enough, no logic or willpower or an ounce of basic fucking common sense that holds even the slightest candle to the power that Sokka has over him?

Does Sokka know that not a single other thing has ever come close?

Or that Zuko’s fairly certain that nothing ever will?

Sokka can’t know, because to know and not at least attempt to tone it down would be cruel. Zuko may be confused – he may feel utterly and completely out of his depth – but he knows that Sokka’s never been cruel a moment in his life.

Sokka’s still staring and his eyes seem almost glassy – he’s not making eye contact anymore, his gaze focused somewhere near Zuko’s waist. Zuko still doesn’t know, for certain, why Sokka’s upset, and if his guess is right, he doesn’t _really_ want to hear it. But Sokka looks lost and Zuko _knows_ that he has to do something about it. It might take everything in him, but Zuko’s going to figure out what’s wrong. Gently, he breaks the silence.

“Sokka?”

The sound of his own name seems to surprise him – Sokka looks up abruptly, his cheeks go dark and he stills, his hands dropping to his side.

Slowly, Zuko steps forward.

Sokka all but flings himself backwards into the door.

Zuko tries his best not to take it personally and takes another small step forward, still hovering near the desk. He meets Sokka’s eyes – still frantic looking, still startled – and attempts a half smile.

Zuko can feel that it’s all wrong – he’s almost certain that it looks more like a worried grimace than anything vaguely resembling a smile – but it must do _something_ , because Sokka seems to thaw at the sight.

Sokka moves towards him, but he isn’t slow or deliberate like Zuko had been. Before Zuko can even think anything more than _fuck_ , Sokka is in front of him. Zuko abruptly wonders how he managed to convince himself that he could be normal about this.

Every time Zuko is this close to Sokka, it feels like he’s seeing him for the first time. Even so, there’s something starkly different about this moment.

There’s something new about the static electric feeling in Zuko’s spine as he takes it all in – the deep, stormy blue of Sokka’s eyes, the slope of his nose, the casual way his hair falls out of his wolf tail, delicate strands brushing his forehead. The freckles that Zuko longs to kiss, one by one, until he loses count.

It’s _distinctive_ this time, when Zuko’s heart rate ticks up quickly, as he makes eye contact with Sokka. When his hands start to go a bit clammy, and shaky, and –

Zuko opens his mouth to say something – really, he _plans_ on saying something – but gets distracted when Sokka drops his gaze unexpectedly. Zuko watches, motionless, as Sokka’s eyes find – his shoulders?

That doesn’t seem right.

But Sokka seems almost mystified, something – some unknown, magnetic force – holding him in place.

Zuko feels hot all over.

“ _Sokka_ ,” he says quietly, and Sokka jerks his head up, the spell broken.

He flinches, a little, when he meets Zuko’s gaze. Zuko barely notices.

Because – because –

Zuko hadn’t noticed before, but now, able to look away from Sokka’s eyes out of sheer embarrassment more than anything else, he spots it.

The smallest smudge of red lipstick, hiding at the corner of Sokka’s lips.

Zuko can picture it easily – Sokka hastily wiping the Kyoshi Warrior makeup from his face, missing a spot, hurrying through the motions of changing clothes, and – _Agni_ , he shouldn’t think about Sokka changing, shouldn’t think about the slope of his shoulders, or the –

Zuko doesn’t realize that his hand is raised until his skin makes contact with Sokka’s mouth. That drags him back into the present: his thumb is brushing Sokka’s bottom lip (it’s so _soft_ ), and Sokka is –

Zuko looks back up and finds Sokka completely entranced with his movements, mouth hanging slightly open, pupils blown wide and full of –

His stupid, hopeful mind answers _longing_ before he can dispute it.

Zuko thinks that he might melt.

“You’ve got, um,” Zuko whispers, just to say something, to attempt to explain himself, to try to cut through the heavy tension pushing down on his shoulders, “some lipstick, still. Just here.”

He doesn’t drop his hand. It moves, without his permission, to trace along Sokka’s cheek, following the map of freckles from one point to another.

Zuko needs to stop. He needs to get a _grip_ , before Sokka snaps out of whatever trance he’s in, he needs to –

Whatever Zuko is expecting to happen next, it isn’t this.

Zuko could have guessed a lot of ways that this could go wrong – Sokka freaking out, Sokka yelling at him, Sokka _hating_ him.

But Zuko could have never, not if he had a century to try, predicted that Sokka’s hand would hover in the air, for just a moment, before finding the back of his head, fingers gently weaving into his hair.

Zuko doesn’t process that he’s reaching out too, until his hand is grazing against the soft fabric of Sokka’s tunic. He grips it – _needs_ to, because he’s never felt more unsteady in his life – and Sokka’s other hand jumps up to grab at his waist in response.

Zuko isn’t sure that he remembers how to breathe.

His hand is still on Sokka’s face, cupping his cheek. Sokka seems to realize that at the same moment – he tilts his head slightly, into Zuko’s palm, like he’s being drawn towards Zuko’s touch.

Zuko can’t focus on any one thing. His gaze jumps from Sokka’s eyes, to his lips, and back, unable to look for too long at either. He can’t seem to stop himself from tracing circles into Sokka’s cheek.

When he _does_ manage to pause in his ministrations _,_ Zuko’s traitorous hand joins the other – the one holding onto Sokka’s hip for dear life – and stupidly, senselessly, pulls Sokka closer.

This is a bad idea.

It’s an awful, terrible, potentially disastrous idea.

Somewhere, deep in Zuko’s mind, there is a whole list of reasons explaining _why_ this is a bad idea.

But even the most pessimistic part of Zuko can’t ignore the way that Sokka is looking at him right now – like _he’s_ the one stuck in Zuko’s orbit, and not the other way around. Zuko wonders if Sokka even knows that he’s leaning forward, or if it all comes down to gravity.

It’s a bad idea.

Zuko’s never been the best at making good decisions though.

If someone were to ask Zuko, later, who started it, he would say that it hadn’t _mattered_ , really. Sokka pulls him closer by his hair and Zuko tugs on Sokka’s tunic so hard he momentarily fears that he might tear it, and honestly, it’s pointless to try to scrutinize the details in between those truths.

Every other time they had kissed, Zuko had forced himself to focus, forced himself not to give into the natural, _right_ feeling of their lips meeting, didn’t _let_ himself, because it wasn’t real.

But –

Sokka’s mouth is on his, his fingers are tight in his hair, and it’s just so _easy_ for Zuko to grip at his hips, tug him closer, and sigh into his mouth.

And – and he knows, he _knows_ that there’s no way that he’s going to be able to shrug this off or explain it away, knows that he’s catching himself red-handed, knows that Sokka is too smart to believe him even if he tried to lie, but he doesn’t _care._

Zuko doesn’t care, because Sokka’s hands are on him and he knows, he knows it’s temporary but somehow, that – the very real knowledge that this will all shatter the moment it ends, that it’s just a hopeless wish on a fleeting shooting star – solidifies his decision to just let himself _have_ this, before the moment vanishes behind the horizon forever.

Sokka’s grip on his waist is overwhelming _and_ soothing, all at once – Zuko feels off-kilter, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the weight of Sokka’s hand around him is the only thing keeping him upright. He tries to regain some control, angling his head to the side and licking into Sokka’s mouth.

Sokka’s hand tightens against Zuko’s bare skin, and it’s too much. Until it’s not, until it’s barely anything at all, when half a breath later, Sokka whimpers into Zuko’s mouth and the hand still in Zuko’s hair tightens, not painfully. Suddenly the idea of _too much_ seems too weak a phrase to describe kissing Sokka.

Whatever the correct phrase is, Zuko doesn’t have the time to think of it, because a beat passes and Sokka is pushing him backwards, one hand still in his hair, the other guiding Zuko from its place at his waist. Zuko nearly stumbles – he _would’ve_ stumbled, if not for the unyielding, steady grip that Sokka has on him – his back hitting the edge of the desk.

Zuko laughs – he can’t help it – but it comes out a bit like a moan. There isn’t even a second for him to be embarrassed; Sokka surges forward again, and they’re chest to chest, Sokka’s tongue pushing insistently into Zuko’s mouth. Zuko is clutching Sokka’s hips desperately, like his ability to hold on is the only thing keeping him standing.

Honestly? It might be.

Everything is so _much_ – Sokka’s hand on his skin, in his hair, Sokka tugging his bottom lip between his teeth – it’s all just overwhelming.

Zuko feels certain that Sokka must be able to feel him trembling – his legs are weak and shaky, like they’re about to give out from under him. It’s becoming difficult to tell if the feeling of Sokka’s mouth on his is causing it, or the only thing preventing Zuko from falling apart completely.

For a split second, Zuko thinks that the floor _has_ dropped out from underneath him. He definitely wouldn’t have been shocked by that turn of events – none of this feels real; the ground swallowing him whole would be the second most surprising thing that had happened tonight. But the ground is still there, and so is Zuko. Three things ground him back in reality:

The sudden solidity of the desk beneath him, the warmth of Sokka sidled between his thighs and looking up at him expectantly, and the firm squeeze of Sokka’s big hands on his waist.

He’s – Sokka picked him _up._ And now he’s, he’s – both of Sokka’s hands are on his skin now, solid and steady. Zuko’s not sure how he can feel dizzy and stable at the same time, but there’s no other way to describe it, that’s what he _is._ Overheated, too. That’s another thing. Zuko is fairly certain that Sokka can feel it, the surge of warmth across Zuko’s body that his touch brings, and he’s not _embarrassed_ but –

Zuko kind of feels like he might faint.

He takes in the sight of Sokka – hair _wild_ , lips kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed dark, deep blue eyes locked on Zuko’s own – for what feels like an eternity, but he knows is only a second, and he just –

He can’t _help it._

Zuko’s hands shoot forward seemingly of their own accord and wrap around the back of Sokka’s neck, pulling their lips back together. Sokka sighs, and Zuko can feel his smile against his mouth, can feel Sokka step closer, can tell there’s barely a centimeter between them. It’s too _much_.

For a second, Zuko wonders if Sokka’s heard his thoughts, because he pulls back. Zuko opens his mouth, unsure if he’s even capable of speech, but whatever thought might have fallen out vanishes when Sokka’s mouth drops to his neck.

It’s a good thing that Zuko feels like he’s outside of his body, watching this from afar, because if he wasn’t, he’s pretty sure the desperate, breathy moan he lets out then would’ve killed him from embarrassment instantly.

As it is, Zuko feels a surge of heat flare across his body, starting in his stomach and spreading to every patch of skin, including the bit that Sokka’s enthusiastically marking up with his lips.

Zuko is definitely going to faint.

Sokka’s hands are sliding up Zuko’s sides, leaving sparks against his skin, and it takes Zuko a moment to realize what’s happening. He glances down – because Sokka is no longer level with his line of vision – just as Sokka presses a hot kiss to his collarbone.

Zuko isn’t going to faint. Zuko is going to _die._

He closes his eyes again, tilting his head up towards the ceiling, and Sokka keeps moving further down and – and Zuko _tries_ to form coherent thought, he does, but it’s all just hot and wet and Sokka’s hands squeezing his waist and Sokka’s _mouth_ , sucking on his hipbone, and Sokka, Sokka, _Sokka_ –

And then, just as he’d guessed, it shatters.

Sokka’s hands drop to Zuko’s thighs – he grips them hard – and then, out of his mouth, falls the traitorous word –

“Baby.”

Lightning strikes again.

The flashbacks come fast – _too_ fast, Zuko feels nauseous, barely resists the urge to close his eyes against them –

The night before, struggling to act normal while telling Sokka about casual flings and the value they hold.

That morning, when he’d lied, lied, _lied_ , and denied that this – that they – could ever be anything at all.

Tonight, or – now? Minutes ago? Hours ago? Zuko isn’t sure when, but – Sokka, with Zuko’s thumb resting against his lip, looking at him like the idea of _not_ touching Zuko was a crime punishable by death.

(It might be. Zuko sort of hopes that it is. Death might be preferable to the way Zuko feels right now.)

Zuko doesn’t want to look. He forces himself to anyways.

Sokka is on his knees, looking up at Zuko, eyes wide with concern. His hands are still around Zuko’s thighs, like he’s holding onto them for support.

Until they’re not.

Sokka stands with a start, wincing slightly, and pulls his hands quickly back. He frowns for a moment – not at Zuko, but at himself – and takes another step back, putting more distance between them.

Zuko feels cold.

“Zuko?” Sokka asks, and the silence shatters around the worry in his voice, “Are you – are you okay?”

Sokka’s watching him, nervous, like Zuko might lash out at him. The anxiety radiating off of him is palpable, and Zuko wants to make it go away, wants it to be a minute ago, wants to feel enveloped in Sokka again but – he can’t. Sokka is staring at him, waiting for an explanation, and – and Zuko doesn’t know what to say.

How can he explain this?

(How can he explain this without ruining everything?)

It hurts, to admit it, but it’s clear now, what this is for Sokka.

Was. It’s over, now.

Zuko had…he had _wondered_ , the idea had been there, in the corner of his mind, from the start of this, trying to find a rational explanation for _why_ Sokka had _looked_ at him like that, but he hadn’t wanted to admit it. Zuko knew that this was fleeting, knew he’d have to face the consequences of indulging it but – there was a tiny part of him that had hoped, maybe, that his assumptions were wrong. 

And then Sokka had dragged him face first back into reality.

 _Baby_.

Zuko feels like an idiot for even briefly entertaining the idea that this could be anything _but_ fake.

And it’s not – it’s not Sokka’s fault. Zuko had actually, unintentionally, led them right to this moment. He had practically given Sokka a “How to Explore Your Sexuality in a Casual Way” tutorial.

Zuko just hadn’t expected Sokka to pick _him_. Though, it makes sense. Zuko is single, Sokka knows that he’s gay and –

Zuko had happily told him that there were absolutely no complications – like, Zuko being in love with him – in the way.

Really, it’s like Zuko had forced Sokka to draw this conclusion. He can’t blame him. He can’t blame anyone but himself.

Zuko sort of wishes the ground _had_ swallowed him whole. He hopes that there’s still a chance.

“Zuko?”

Sokka sounds even more concerned this time, his voice higher than normal. He’s leaning forward, unconsciously, and Zuko feels his whole body ache to reach out to him.

He directs his gaze towards the ceiling instead.

“I – I think we should – I –” Zuko stutters. It feels like he’s trying to talk through a mouthful of glass. “We need to stop.”

“Okay,” Sokka answers, quickly, _nervously,_ by the sound of it, “I’m sorry if I – I didn’t mean to –”

Zuko almost laughs at how ridiculous it is. Of _course_ Sokka is apologizing for something that isn’t his fault.

“It’s okay,” Zuko cuts him off, “It’s okay, _don’t_ apologize –”

Sokka interrupts him. “It’s _not okay_. If I made you uncomfortable, or pushed you, or –”

Zuko swallows hard against the pain in his throat and forces himself to meet Sokka’s eyes. “ _Sokka_.”

Zuko had felt the pinprick of tears in his eyes seconds before, but the way Sokka’s eyes widen in alarm nearly sends them pouring down his cheeks. Zuko blinks quickly before they can.

Sokka doesn’t say anything else, so Zuko takes a sharp breath and digs himself a deeper hole.

“It’s – it’s okay,” Zuko says slowly, because it _is_.

Sokka couldn’t have known – had no reason to know – that Zuko had lied to him. It’s not his fault, and whatever happens, he shouldn’t feel guilty because Zuko is an idiot.

“I understand that –” Zuko stops _,_ “ – I know that you’re –” _no, that’s not right either_ , “– I mean we _talked_ about, but I didn’t – I –”

Zuko falls silent and drops his gaze to his lap.

He waits, and waits, and _waits_ for Sokka to say something, but the silence just sits, heavy and full of something that feels like an ending.

Eventually, when the quiet starts to suffocate him, Zuko forces himself to look up again. Sokka is still watching him, motionless. He looks defeated. Zuko hates himself for it.

“Can we just –” Zuko tries, and the way Sokka perks up at his voice makes his head hurt, “– can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Sokka deflates a bit at that, and Zuko wants to hide.

“Yeah,” Sokka responds, nodding slowly, “We can talk about it tomorrow. Of course.”

He’s looking at Zuko with so much – well, _love,_ but not that kind, that Zuko has to turn away. He hopes that Sokka doesn’t see the tear that manages to escape.

If he does, he doesn’t comment. Zuko isn’t sure if he’s grateful or hurt.

They move silently, like ghosts, towards the bed – Zuko debates retreating to his own room, but he has a feeling this might be the last time he sleeps by Sokka’s side, and he doesn’t want to give that up. So he grabs his pajama shirt from the ground, tugs it on, and follows Sokka to bed.

Zuko doesn’t let himself look at Sokka as he settles under the covers. He faces the wall resolutely, his good ear angled towards the ceiling, and tries not to listen to Sokka breathe.

When the morning does come, Zuko doesn’t know what he’s going to say to explain, but he knows one thing for sure: he can’t pretend that this – kissing Sokka, touching Sokka, letting Sokka touch _him_ like _that_ , without it being real – is anything less than a dagger to the heart.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we will return to our regularly scheduled programming (a.k.a. the plot progressing and confirming that zuko is, in fact, _okay_ ) (i promise y'all, he's fine. have some faith in katara and her magic healing hands) in chapter 10. see you then!
> 
> for now! leave some comments and come chat with me on [tumblr](https://fruitysokka.tumblr.com/)


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